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MARY HOW.ITT 
Edited by EMiLiE POULSSON 





















































Copyright U?__a_L 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


\ 











9 


THE 

CHILDREN’S YEAR 
IN A 

HAPPY HOME 


BOOKS BY EMILIE POULSSON 


FINGER PLAYS 

THROUGH THE FARMYARD GATE 
CHILD STORIES AND RHYMES 
THE RUNAWAY DONKEY AND OTHER RHYMES 
FATHER AND BABY PLAYS 
TOP-OF-THE-WORLD STORIES 

WHAT HAPPENED TO INGER 
JOHANNE 

FOUR COUSINS 

INGER JOHANNE’S LIVELY 
DOINGS 


Translated from the 
Norwegian of 
Dikken Zwilg- 
meyer. 


BY EMILIE POULSSON AND MAUD LINDSAY 


THE JOYOUS TRAVELERS 
THE JOYOUS GUESTS 


EDITED BY EMILIE POULSSON 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR IN A HAPPY HOME 
Revision of The Children’s Year, by Mary Howitt 


LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 













A Humble Tea-Party .—Page 21, 




























































THE 

CHILDREN’S YEAR 

IN A 

HAPPY HOME 


( ®y ' 

MARY HOWITT 

/\ >' 

Edited and Abridged by 

EMILIE POULSSON 



Illustrated by 

FLORENCE LILEY YOUNG 
BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD GO. 



Copyright, 1927, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 

All rights reserved 

The Children’s Year in a Happy Home 


Printed in U. S. A. 


IRotwooD IPress 
BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
Norwood, Mass. 

OCT 21 ! 9?7 


©Cl M004810 

V> 





To 

The Children who Read this Booh 
1 send my greeting in Mary Howitt’s own words: 


“ Go little book, and to the young and kind, 

Speak thou of pleasant hours and lovely things. 

jit, A ^ A A A 

Vjv »|v Vfv rf* VJC 

And greet thou those that love thee in my name.” 

Emilie Poulsson. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 


To Thomas Nelson and Sons, original pub¬ 
lishers of “ The Children’s Year,” appre¬ 
ciative thanks are due for permission to publish 
this new edition. 

To Miss Muriel Brickwood Hutchings of 
Germantown, Pennsylvania, and to her uncle, 
J. Mortimer Angus, then Registrar of the 
University of Wales, I am greatly indebted 
for the copy of Mary Howitt’s book from 
which this new edition is printed. My hearty 
thanks are herewith tendered to them for their 
kind cooperation. 

Emilie Poulsson. 


6 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 


When discussing children’s books with 
mothers, teachers, and librarians, I have not 
infrequently heard regret expressed that this 
book by Mary Howitt was out of print. 

Concurring in this regret, and believing that 
modern children will find in the story the 
same pleasure-giving qualities that endeared it 
to past generations, I have prepared this new 
edition for the young readers of to-day. 

The present title of the book is a combina¬ 
tion of the two titles under which it was pub¬ 
lished at different times: “ The Children’s 
Year,” and “ The Story of a Happy Home.” 

The Herbert and Meggy of whom the book 

tells, were Mrs. Howitt’s own children, and 

this chronicle of their year is strictly true. They 

did and enjoyed many things such as children 

7 


8 


EDITOR'S PREFACE 


everywhere do and enjoy. Thus the book 
gives to the child reader a kind of reflection of 
his own busy, happy life; and this reflection not 
only pleases him but helps to develop his grow¬ 
ing consciousness of himself in his own world. 

Moreover, since the story gives a faithful 
portrayal of child life in England eighty years 
ago, the English setting and the earlier time 
add the flavor of the unfamiliar and set the 
young reader’s curiosity and imagination at 
work. Such increased mental activity always 
increases the enjoyment a child gets from his 
reading. 

My chief aim in editing the book has been to 
simplify it for inexperienced readers; so I have 
made it less wordy in places and omitted some 
lengthy descriptions and digressions. That 
these changes may give the good little story a 
new chance of life among children’s books is 
my earnest hope. 


E. P. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I. 

The Children’s Home . 

13 

II. 

Winter Evenings . 

18 

III. 

A Humble Tea-Party . 

23 

IV. 

Alfred’s Adventure on the 



Ice ••••■• 

28 

V. 

Mary Comes Home 

36 

VI. 

Henry’s Visit . 

44 

VII. 

Mary’s Little Lesson . 

54 

VIII. 

Surprise after Surprise . 

57 

IX. 

The Rooks and the Spar¬ 



rows . 

66 

X. 

The Playhouse in the 



Garden. 

69 

XI. 

Herbert and the Bees . 

74 

XII. 

Herbert Leaves Home 

81 

XIII. 

Meggy’s Journey . 

90 

XIV. 

The New Playmate . 

98 

XV. 

The Dog Muschy . 

105 

XVI. 

Meggy at Home Again 

111 


9 


10 


CONTENTS 


XVII. 

XVIII. 


XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 


Where Was the Sun-Bear? 120 

A Very Short Chapter 
Which, However, Con¬ 
tains Something! . . 127 

Little Harry Twiggs . . 129 

Off to Hastings . . . 154 

Travelling and Arrival . 158 

Sea Treasures . . . .165 

The Light-Green Boat . 175 

A Country Excursion . . 186 

A Disappointing Sea Trip . 196 

The Children Visit Battle 203 

A Remembered Christmas . 208 

Pelz-Nickel, Junior . . 219 

Christmas Eve . . . 227 

The Pantomime . . . 233 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A Humble Tea-Party (Page 24) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

“ All these for only one shilling! ” . .60 

Sometimes they called, “Cuckoo!” . 102 

Crash! he came through the hedge . .148 

They made boats of little limpet-shells . 180 

Herbert knew that this Pelz-Nickel, Ju¬ 
nior, was Alfred himself . . . 224 


11 







































THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 
IN A HAPPY HOME 


CHAPTER I 

THE CHILDREN^ HOME 

The children were Herbert and Margaret, 
or Meggy, as she was called at home. They 
were very happy little children; they had kind 
parents, a pleasant home, a kind brother and 
sister older than themselves, good health and 
loving hearts,—so that it would have been 
strange if they were not happy. 

Herbert and Meggy lived in the outskirts of 

London. Their house stood on a highroad, 

from which it was separated by a little green 

paddock and a row of tall old elm-trees. Carts 

and omnibuses were always passing along the 

13 



14 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


road, and ladies and gentlemen riding past on 
horseback, or driving in gay carriages. It 
was very amusing to sit at the windows on this 
side of the house and see all that was passing 
on the road, though it must be confessed that 
the drooping leafy branches of the elm-trees 
made the view much less distinct in summer 
than in winter. 

The little paddock, however, was visible both 
in winter and summer, and it always looked 
green and pleasant. It was enclosed by neat 
white palings, and sheep now and then were 
turned into it to graze. 

But what interested the children still more 
than the sheep—that might be said to be only 
occasional lodgers there—was the old couple 
that lived there every day, and these were a 
goose and a gander. These two creatures be¬ 
longed to a good old poulterer who lived on the 
opposite side of the road. 

Every morning, Herbert and Meggy could 




THE CHILDREN'S HOME 


15 


see the old goose and gander either waiting to 
set off, or on their way to the little paddock. 
They had to cross the busy highroad to reach 
it, and it was quite amusing to see how delib¬ 
erate and careful they were in all their move¬ 
ments. 

They would stand side by side on the cause¬ 
way, like a cautious old couple, looking up the 
road and down the road to see if all were safe; 
and if it appeared to them to be so, they would 
look at each other and nod their heads, and 
then step down from the raised curbstone into 
the road, and go waddling across, evidently in 
a great bustle lest anything should come driv¬ 
ing along unexpectedly. 

As soon as they had safely reached the other 
side, they would pause to take breath, and one 
would look at the other, as if to say, “ Let us 
be thankful that we have got safely over.” 
And then they would in a very leisurely way, 
and with great apparent self-satisfaction, turn 


16 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

in at the little white gate of the paddock, which 
always stood open for them, and begin nibbling 
the nice fresh grass with as much relish and 
delight as Herbert and Meggy would eat their 
own breakfast. 

Herbert and Meggy often wondered how 
old this goose and gander were; they thought 
that they must be very old, because they looked 
so grave and experienced, and had lived at the 
poulterer’s across the way as long as the chil¬ 
dren could remember. 

At the back of the house there was a pleasant 
garden with many evergreens growing in it; 
with a great deal of smoothly mown grass, bor¬ 
dered with flowers; and with a greenhouse, on 
the glass roof of which was trained a beautiful 
vine that bore plenty of grapes. There were 
green seats here and there in the garden, where 
people sat in summer. According to Herbert 
and Meggy’s opinion, it was the most charm¬ 
ing garden that ever was seen. 


THE CHILDREN’S HOME 17 

At the bottom of the garden a piece of 
ground was laid out in three little gardens side 
by side. These belonged to Herbert and 
Meggy, and their elder brother. Their elder 
brother had made an arbor in his garden,—he 
had made it all himself,—and the little chil¬ 
dren thought it a beautiful place. On one side 
of his arbor grew a willow-tree, on the other a 
rose; in summer, sweet peas were planted 
round it; and at the back there was a water¬ 
melon vine, which, with its large luxuriant 
foliage, bright yellow flowers, and ponderous 
fruit, the children thought very grand. 

Beyond the garden there were green mead¬ 
ows in which herds of cattle were feeding. 

A pleasant little lane, not far off, led down 
to these charming meadows; and when there, 
the children had the delight of seeing, in the 
distance, their own home, with its tall old elm- 
trees ^and ivied walls. 

-3 


CHAPTER II 


WINTER EVENINGS 

The father of Herbert and Meggy liked to 
have his children with him in the evening. 
They were delighted to come down to him 
when all his writing was done, and his books 
and papers put away, and he had nothing to 
do but to talk or to read to them. 

Herbert could remember the time when he 
used to sit upon his father’s knee. He was too 
big a boy for that now, and either sat beside 
him on a low seat, or else leaned against his 
chair; while Meggy sat on the father’s knee. 
He would very often tell them stories of the 
time when he was a boy, and lived in the coun¬ 
try, where there were plenty of cows and 

horses, and sheep, and pigs, and poultry, and 

18 


WINTER EVENINGS 


19 


when he kept rabbits and guinea-pigs of his 
own. If he were not in a humor to tell a 
story, he would read to them some pleasant 
book. In this way a great many charming 
books had been read, among them Captain 
Marryat’s “ Settlers in Canada.” There was 
a great deal of talk while they were reading 
the “ Settlers,” about “ suppose ” they them¬ 
selves should go to live in America. Alfred, 
the children’s elder brother, who listened with 
them to all that was read, thought that noth¬ 
ing in this world would please him more than 
to live in America, to meet with all kinds of 
difficulties as the settlers did, to have hard work 
to do, and to be in danger from Indians. 

There was another book which was a great 
favorite at this time, and that was “ Pilgrim’s 
Progress.” It was as good as a fairy tale: 
Giant Despair was as pleasantly dismal as old 
Bluebeard himself, and Greatheart was a per¬ 
fect hero. 


20 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


Alfred had a book also, which had been a 

great favorite with him when he was younger. 
This was the “ Swiss Family Robinson.” He 
read this book to Herbert, and talked about it 
to Meggy, and it and its people thus became 
their delight also. 

One day, when Alfred saw the pleasure the 
two little ones had in the book, an idea oc¬ 
curred to him—a very pleasant and kind idea. 
And on this he set to work. 

He took a board about a foot wide and 
eighteen inches long, and, having bored several 
holes in it with a gimlet, he stuck into the holes 
little branches of juniper and arbor-vitas, 
which looked exactly like trees. He then made 
a nice little house of stiff paper, as much like 
that described in the “ Swiss Family,” as he 
could, and this he put into the largest tree. 
Next, he cut out a neat little ladder of card¬ 
board, by which to climb to the house. He then 
cut out the whole Robinson family, father, 


WINTER EVENINGS 


21 


mother, and children, and all the animals they 
possessed. He copied the animals very accu¬ 
rately from Bewick’s “ Natural History.” He 
put tiny birds into the trees, and neat little 
tables and chairs in the house. Here Mrs. 
Robinson sat while her husband and sons were 
all busy below,—some driving up the cattle, 
one milking, and another with a gun in his 
hand, aiming up into a tree. 

Alfred worked many evenings to complete 
all this, and the doing of it was a great pleas¬ 
ure to himself; and as for the two little chil¬ 
dren, nothing could equal their delight in the 
gift. They loved Alfred more than ever be¬ 
cause he had made this interesting plaything 
for them. When they played with it, they 
could feel as if they themselves were the little 
Robinsons, who were so busy in that pleasant 
island. They felt, while they made the little 
pasteboard figures mount up the ladder, as if 
they themselves were doing so, and then as if 


22 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


they went into the house in the tree, and sat 
down with good Mrs. Robinson. 

The Robinson family was kept in a table 
drawer, and the island, with all its beautiful 
trees, in a closet. For a long time, they were 
brought forth every evening and set out afresh; 
and the Robinsons, the animals, and the trees 
could be arranged in so many different ways, 
that Herbert and Meggy always found new 
enjoyment in playing with their “ island.” 


CHAPTER III 


A HUMBLE TEA-PARTY 

The servants who lived with the parents of 
Herbert and Meggy were very good, respect¬ 
able women. The children went but rarely into 
the kitchen, yet now and then they did so— 
for instance, one evening soon after New 
.Year’s Day. In the morning the children came 
running to their mother with a note in their 
hands. It was an invitation from the cook and 
the housemaid for them to drink tea in the 
kitchen. Such a thing was to them delightful. 
They had never had tea in the kitchen in their 
lives. Might they do so? Their mother gave 
them leave; they therefore ran into the nursery 
to beg Ellen to write an answer for them. 
This she did, and the note was sealed and sent 
downstairs at once. 


23 


24 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


In the evening, dressed in their best clothes, 
they went down into the kitchen for the tea- 
party. The servants had their Sunday gowns 
and caps on, and clean white aprons, and the 
whole kitchen looked very bright and company¬ 
like. 

There was a hearth-rug before the great 
kitchen fender, and a nice red cloth on the lit¬ 
tle kitchen table, on which the tea things were 
already set out. A large fire blazed so brightly 
in the grate that the candles seemed quite dim. 
The dish-covers and the brass pans shone out 
on the walls; so did the blue and white dinner- 
service, which was ranged on the dresser 
shelves. 

The children looked round, and thought how 
pleasant the kitchen Avas. Sprigs of green 
holly and ivy, and bunches of red holly-berries, 
were stuck all about in the brass candlesticks 
which \\ r ere not used, and among the dishes 
and plates and bright tin covers. Everything 


A HUMBLE TEA-PARTY 25 

looked quite splendid! And then there was a 
low, warm sound of water bubbling in the 
boiler by the fire, and a chirping of crickets on 
the hearth, and such a warmth and glow as 
were delightful. The children laughed and 
were very merry, and the two servants laughed 
and were very merry also. 

There were two arm-chairs with cushions in 
them for the children to sit in, one on each 
side of the fire; and here they sat and talked 
and watched the toasting of a tea-cake, and 
then they all sat down to tea as happy as could 
be. Both Herbert and Meggy thought that 
never in all their life had they had such a de¬ 
licious tea as this. 

After tea, they all sat round the fire and 
guessed riddles; and then the servants told 
stories about the time when they were little 
girls, and about their homes and their playfel¬ 
lows. Both Herbert and Meggy thought 
these stories very interesting indeed. 


26 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


In the course of the evening Alfred pre¬ 
sented himself at the kitchen door with an ac¬ 
cordion in his hand, and asked permission to 
come in and play them a tune. He played 
very merrily,—so merrily, indeed, that they 
could not help dancing; so Herbert waltzed 
with the cook, and Meggy with the housemaid, 
and then the two children danced what they 
called the Polka together, much to the amuse¬ 
ment of their entertainers. 

When they were tired of dancing, Alfred 
sang them a song; and then it was supper time, 
and he was asked to join them; this he gladly 
did, because he saw oranges and gingerbread, 
which the cook had just set on the table. The 
supper was jollier than the tea had been: Al¬ 
fred was very funny, and sang them another 
song; and they guessed more riddles, and told 
other. merry tales, and laughed so loud that 
anybody might have heard them all the way 
upstairs. 


A HUMBLE TEA-PARTY 


27 


By this time it was nine o’clock, and their 
parents, who had been out dining with some 
friends, came home; and the children had just 
time before going to bed to tell what fun they 
had had at the kitchen tea-party. 


CHAPTER IV 


Alfred's adventure on the ice 

In February there was a great deal of cold 
weather. Winter seemed to have come back 
again; the snow fell, and there was such severe 
frost that the ponds in the neighborhood of 
the children’s home were once more covered 
with ice. Alfred again brought out his skates, 
—which he had just put by, as he thought, for 
the season,—and went out, whenever he could 
find the time, to enjoy his favorite amusement 
of skating. 

One of the greatest pleasures which Herbert 
now had was going out with Alfred on such ex¬ 
cursions. Alfred was always in good humor 
at the thought of the sport ahead; and when 
he took his skates in one hand, and Herbert’s 

28 



ALFRED’S ADVENTURE ON THE ICE 29 


hand in the other, away the two boys would 
go, laughing and chattering as merry as could 
be. So great was Herbert’s admiration of his 
elder brother and his love for him, that nothing 
gave him more happiness than for Alfred to 
make him his companion. 

Herbert had lost his fear of the ice. He ven¬ 
tured boldly upon it, when his brother had 
once assured him that it would bear; and he 
would run about on it, and practise sliding, 
and keep himself quite warm, let the weather 
be as cold as it would. Alfred and his young 
gentlemen friends, when on the ice, used to 
set him to clear the sticks and stones out of 
their way. Thus he found he could be very 
useful; which is always a pleasant thing, and 
which was now particularly so to Herbert, for 
Alfred then called him his “Man Friday,” 
and that pleased the little boy very much. 

Alfred said that in a year or two he would 
teach Herbert to skate, and would give him the 


30 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

skates which he was then wearing, and which 
by that time would be too small for him. Her¬ 
bert made a little run, slid along on his feet, 
and fancied that he was skimming over the ice 
on the promised skates. 

Every morning the chamber window panes 
were covered with beautiful feathery frost¬ 
work, and the water-tubs in the yard were one 
solid mass of ice; but for all that, during the 
day, the sun was very warm and thawed the 
frozen paths and even the surface of the ice. 
Alfred’s mother began to fear that it was not 
safe to skate any longer, because there were 
cracks in the ice here and there; and as the 
skaters went over it, it bent like a bow. Alfred 
was very unwilling to give up skating, and 
Herbert was just as unwilling to give up the 
pleasure of going out with him. 

“ Let me go just once more,” begged Alfred; 
“ only just to try if it will bear on the nearest 
pond.” 


ALFRED’S ADVENTURE ON THE ICE 31 

His mother reluctantly consented. He 
might go and try, while Herbert and little 
Meggy had their things put on; for Meggy 
was to go out with them that day. Alfred 
promised that unless other skaters were on the 
ice he would not venture; and, at all events, 
Meggy and Herbert were not to go on it, but 
were to take Ellen with them to bear them 
company while they walked about near the 
pond. 

The children and Ellen were just dressed 
and ready to go downstairs, when Alfred’s 
voice was heard below; he was talking eagerly 
and laughing very much. The next moment 
they heard him coming upstairs, but very 
slowly and heavily, and then they saw him, and 
at every step the water was running from him 
like a river. 

“ I have been in,” said Alfred; “ in up to my 
neck! Only look how wet I am, and it feels so 
queer, and sticky, and so heavy! ” and then he 


32 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


laughed again, as if it were a very funny thing 
indeed. 

But Alfred’s mother did not think it funny 
at all, and at first she was sorry that she had 
consented for him to go; in a little while, how¬ 
ever, she thought it was best that he had gone, 
as perhaps this little accident might make him 
careful for the future. 

It was very amusing to Herbert to help Al¬ 
fred get his wet things off, for it was just like 
skinning some great creature, and Alfred was 
being as funny as he could all the time, because 
he did not wish anybody to consider his falling 
into the water a serious affair. 

Alfred said that every one on the ice was 
so alert that he could not possibly have been 
drowned. He said that even the poor boys who 
were sliding there, when they saw that he was 
in the water, came running to the place to help 
him; and when he was out, one unbuckled his 
skates, and another wrung out his gloves. Al- 


ALFRED’S ADVENTURE ON THE ICE 33 

fred’s mother and all the rest were glad to hear 
of this, and wished they could tell the poor boys 
how much they were obliged to them. Herbert 
thought that he should like very much to give 
them something; and he and Alfred determined 
that when Alfred was re-dressed in warm, dry 
things, they would set off to the pond, and, if 
the boys were there, would thank them again. 

Alfred took one of the little ones by each 
hand, and off the three set toward the pond, 
so full of the adventure that they could talk 
about nothing else all the way. When they 
came to the pond, and saw the hole in the 
cracked and splintered ice into which Alfred 
had fallen, he became more and more of a hero 
to the two little children. 

Nobody was skating now: the ice was consid¬ 
ered dangerous by all; even the boys who had 
been sliding were gone. The whole pond was 
deserted, except by a group of ragged-looking 
lads who were throwing stones on the ice to 


34 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


break it. Meggy thought that they must be 
rude boys because they threw stones, and she 
could not conceive that any of them had been 
kind enough to help her brother. Great, there¬ 
fore, was her surprise, when, in reply to Her¬ 
bert’s question whether any of those boys had 
helped him, Alfred replied, “ Yes; that lanky 
lad with the old hat, who is just now throwing 
a stone, he ventured upon the very rottenest 
ice to pull me out.” 

Herbert felt as if he could have hugged the 
lad, in spite of his dirty clothes, and he pulled 
Alfred forward without saying a word. 
Meggy, too, was silent; she was thinking that 
people might be very good and yet poor and 
ragged. 

When the boys saw Alfred coming they all 
looked at him with attention, for the ragged 
boy in the old hat had told them that the ice 
had broken with him. 

“ I say, my good fellow,” said Alfred, ad- 


ALFRED'S ADVENTURE ON THE ICE 35 


dressing the boy, “ you were very brave in 
venturing on that rotten ice to pull me out; I 
did not thank you enough then, and I am come 
now to do so—and to thank the others also 
who helped me, but I see that they are gone.” 

“ You’re heartily welcome, sir, to what I did 
—and it was but little,” said the boy, coloring 
till his face looked almost handsome. 

The children walked on with Alfred, all 
wishing that they could have done something 
really to benefit the poor boy; could have given 
him something that would have lasted longer 
than their thanks; but the boy felt abundantly 
rewarded by Alfred’s thanks, and by the kind 
and grateful expression of the little children’s 
faces. 



CHAPTER V 


MARY COMES HOME 

At the end of February a pleasant event oc¬ 
curred at the home of Herbert and Meggy. 
Their dear sister, who had been away from 
home for three months, was now to return. 
Her arrival was talked of for a long time be¬ 
fore it took place. 

It gave Meggy great delight to see the fire 
lighted in her sister Mary’s bed-chamber. She 
went and sat in that room and watched all the 
operations going forward. She saw the cur¬ 
tains put up, and the nice clean white sheets 
put on the bed, and the clean counterpane; and 
the little toilet-table made to look so nice with 
its frilled muslin cover over the pink lining. 
Meggy watched all this, and then, anxious to 
do something herself for this dear sister, she 

36 


MARY COMES HOME 


37 


put on a little make-believe apron and a clean 
night-cap, and calling herself Martha the 
housemaid, set about dusting and rubbing the 
chairs and writing-table, and all the nice little 
cut-glass scent-bottles and the boxes which 
stood on the toilet-table. Oh, how happy was 
Meggy! The bedroom was ready, and the 
next day her dear sister would come. 

And now it was the next day. The last 
breakfast without her was eaten, the last din¬ 
ner, and she was to be at home by six o’clock. 
At breakfast their mother said that she was 
going in a carriage to meet Mary at Euston 
Square Station, about four miles off, and that 
Herbert and Meggy should go with her, for 
there would be plenty of room. This was 
quite a joyful surprise to the children. They 
did not often go from home,—very seldom in¬ 
deed in a carriage,—and therefore when such 
an indulgence was permitted to them, it made 
them very happy. 


38 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


They were so grateful for this unexpected 
pleasure, that they worked very industriously 
at their lessons all that day. They knew that 
it always pleased their mother when they were 
industrious and tried to do their best. 

What happy hearts they had, and what 
bright faces, when the last lesson was done, and 
they had only to be washed and dressed, and 
then the carriage would be at the door to take 
them all on such a joyful errand! 

And now the carriage came, and out they 
rushed and sprang into it,—and out came their 
mother, and she, too, got in,—and then they 
drove away, the children almost ready to 
scream for delight. 

When Herbert and Meggy and their mother 
reached the railway station, they found that 
they were twenty minutes too early, so they 
walked about and looked at everything that 
was going on. There was a train just about 
to start, and the children watched the people 



MARY COMES HOME 


39 


running with their boxes and bundles, and tak¬ 
ing their seats in a great hurry; and then the 
man rang his bell, and those who were yet be¬ 
hindhand ran all the faster,—till at last every¬ 
body was seated, and there were only the 
guards locking the carriage doors, and the 
boys offering newspapers beside the carriages; 
and then the steam screamed and puffed out, 
and then the engine began working, and away 
the train went. The next thing was that the 
porters began to assemble on the side of the 
station where the children were, and cabs, and 
carriages, and omnibuses drove up, all, like 
themselves, come to wait for arrivals. 

And now the train from Birmingham was 
heard coming in; and now the engine was 
taken off, and men pushed on the train till it 
came under the shed, where all were waiting 
and in readiness. The children and their mother 
looked along the line; and now heads were 
popped out of the railway carriages,—heads of 




40 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

old men and young men and women, and little 
boys and young ladies,—and there! just in the 
very midmost carriage, their dear sister was 
looking out,—smiling, and seeming as glad to 
recognize them as they were to recognize her. 

The train stopped. The doors were opened, 
and out stepped all the passengers, and among 
the rest their own sweet sister; and what boxes, 
and hampers, and baskets, and bags she seemed 
to have with her! The children kissed her, and 
she kissed them; a porter carried her things 
to the carriage, and in she got, and in they got, 
and the mother did the same; and the boxes, 
and the bags, and the baskets were stowed one 
here and another there, and away they drove. 

Their sister had a new little basket with her; 
she had brought it in her hand out of the rail¬ 
way carriage, and now she kept it very care¬ 
fully on her knee. It seemed quite full of very 
neat little packets. Meggy wondered what 
they could be, and so did Herbert; but neither 


MARY COMES HOME 


41 


of them liked to ask,—only Meggy remarked 
that it was a new basket, meaning thereby to 
turn her sister’s thoughts to it. And she must 
have done so, for almost directly Mary said, 
looking down at the basket, “ I have some¬ 
thing here which I brought for you from 
Derby; ” and with this she took a neat little 
packet, folded up carefully in nice white paper, 
and said, “ Guess, now, what is here! ” 

The children guessed cakes and figs, and a 
little box, and many other things, none of 
which was right; and then their mother, who 
knew very well what sort of things might be 
bought in Derby, guessed a bird’s nest. 

“ You shall see,” said their sister, and opened 
the packet; and there, sure enough, was a little 
nest, looking just as if it had been made by a 
real bird, of moss and hair; but it was only 
made of spar, which was colored to look like 
them. Within it there lay four little spar eggs, 
white, spotted with brown,—so like eggs that 



42 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


nobody who had not touched them could have 
believed them to be stone. The children ad¬ 
mired the whole wonderingly, and declared 
that their sister could not have pleased them 
better than by bringing them such a present. 

“ I am not quite sure whether I have not 
something which you will admire even more 
than this/’ said their sister, and she took out 
another, and then another little packet. She 
opened them both. They each contained cake: 
the one a thick slice of delicious bride-cake, full 
of currants, rich and brown, with a layer of 
almonds an inch thick, and then covered over 
with sugar; the other was a nice, flat queen- 
cake. 

“ Oh, how good! ” exclaimed both children 
at once, feeling as if they longed for a bite. 

“ May I taste a hit? ” asked Meggy. 

“Yes, certainly,” said their sister. . 

“ O dear, how hard! ” cried Herbert, trying 
to break off a morsel of the bride-cake. 


MARY COMES HOME 


43 


“ O dear, how hard! ” cried Meggy, trying 
to break the queen-cake. “ I can’t get any! ” 
said she, looking puzzled. 

Herbert, in the meantime, was turning the 
bride-cake over and over. 

“I believe it is nothing but stone!” at 
length he said. “ I believe it is all a sham! ” 

“ And so is mine! ” exclaimed Meggy. 

Herbert was delighted. “ What fun we shall 
have, when we get home, with Alfred!” 

“ Yes,” said Meggy, as delighted as Her¬ 
bert; “we will ask Ellen and Alfred, and 
everybody, to have a bit of cake! ” 


CHAPTER VI 


henry’s visit 

A gentleman came on a visit to the parents 
of Herbert and Meggy, and brought with him 
his little nephew Henry. Henry was an or¬ 
phan, and his uncle had taken him to live with 
him as his son. The uncle and nephew were as 
dear to each other as parent and child. Henry 
was about eleven years old; he could play there¬ 
fore with either Alfred or Herbert, or they 
could all three play together. 

He was excessively fond of all kinds of tame 
and pet animals, especially of birds, and soon 
after they had come to London his uncle had 
bought him three birds—two canaries and a 
chaffinch. These birds were very beautiful and 
were fine singers as well, and Henry had 
wished of all things to bring them with him. 

44 


HENRY’S VISIT 


45 


His uncle, however, had thought it best to leave 
them. Henry thought a great deal about his 
birds, and even dreamed that they were sitting 
perched on his finger, and that he was chirping 
to them. 

One day his uncle brought him very bad 
news from London. The two canaries were 
dead; the last had died that morning, and he 
brought it with him in a little paper bag. 
Henry cried when he saw the little dead body 
of his favorite; and Alfred said he would go 
with him the next day, and they two would 
bring home the remaining bird in his cage. 

It was quite an interesting journey to them; 
and Alfred, one of whose favorite places in 
London was the Polytechnic Institution, took 
Henry there, and showed him all the wonders 
of the place. He was weighed in the patent 
weighing-machine; they saw the diving-bell go 
down; they tried the electrical machine; they 
went and saw the glass-blower at work, and 


46 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


brought away spun glass and a glass ship; and, 
last of all, they saw the magnified figures and 
the dissolving views. Henry was delighted; 
and Alfred, who rather prided himself on his 
scientific knowledge, had the pleasure of ex¬ 
plaining all they saw. 

They then went for the bird, and tying the 
cage up in a big kerchief, brought it safely 
home. The cage was hung in the nursery, but 
the poor bird, in spite of the care that was 
taken of it by all of them, died, like its com¬ 
panions, in a few days. 

The children were very sad, especially 
Henry and Meggy, to whom the little stiff, 
dead body presented a very sorrowful spectacle. 
Henry longed for a bird, a bird of his own 
training, and he began to think that really 
he would catch one for himself. It was now 
the middle of March, and extremely cold and 
wintry; the ground was frozen quite hard, and 
the hungry little birds hopped about the doors 


HENRY’S VISIT 


47 


and windows looking for any crumbs they 
might find. 

Alfred, who had sympathized with poor 
Henry in his loss, told him that nothing would 
be easier than to catch a bird, and that as soon 
as he had a little time, he would set such a good 
trap that it would be sure to take one. He 
soon found a little time, and the trap was set. 
Alfred told Henry that he should not wonder 
if he caught a bird that very day, 

A pair of blackbirds came hopping about the 
grass plot every day. They had lived there two 
summers, and the whole family were very fond 
of them; they built in the garden, and no one 
was allowed to molest them. Henry did not 
know this. He thought that of all things he 
should like a blackbird; he told Alfred so, and 
Alfred, who had never caught a blackbird in 
all his life, and who believed them too wise to 
be caught, laughed, and said that if Henry 
caught a blackbird he might have it. 


48 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


Henry thought of nothing but catching a 
blackbird; he knew that they sung beautifully 
in cages, and he had heard his uncle say that of 
all birds he should prefer having a blackbird. 
His uncle was then absent for a few days, and 
Henry determined to present him with one of 
these birds on his return. 

Alfred had a large wicker cage, in which a 
jackdaw had lived last summer; and this Her¬ 
bert, who entered into all Henry’s plans, bor¬ 
rowed to have in readiness. The trap was set 
in the most skilful manner according to Al¬ 
fred’s method, and Alfred also lent Henry 
some books on the management of tame birds. 
Henry read, and became very knowing. Al¬ 
fred, who had a great many lessons to do and 
but little time to spare, contrived, nevertheless, 
now and then to run out with Henry to see 
what was taken when the top of the trap had 
fallen. Sparrows, and robins, and tomtits were 
caught; but as none of these was able to sat- 


HENRY’S VISIT 


49 


isfy Henry’s ambition, they were always 
speedily released. 

It happened, however, one morning, when 
Alfred was too deeply engaged to have a mo¬ 
ment’s time to spare either for birds or little 
boys, and Herbert and Henry were in the 
garden together, they saw the trap down: 
something was caught. They ran and peeped 
in. Oh, joy and wonder! There really was 
a blackbird, with its full brown plumage and 
its yellow bill! Never before had two boys 
been so delighted. 

“ Run and fetch the cage, Herbert!” said 
Henry. 

Herbert, forgetting the prohibition about 
taking blackbirds, ran and fetched it in a mo¬ 
ment. 

The captive bird was carefully taken from 
the trap and thrust quickly into the cage. 
What affection the two little boys felt for it! 
They would not have hurt a feather. They car- 


50 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


ried the cage upstairs into the nursery to show 
Meggy and Ellen. 

Henry had already prepared such food and 
sand as would be needful in case a blackbird 
was caught. 

“ May we catch blackbirds? ” asked Meggy, 
half unwilling to dampen her joy by the 
thought that would intrude. 

“ Alfred said we might have a blackbird if 
we could catch it! ” said Henry triumphantly. 

In course of time Alfred had finished study¬ 
ing his lessons, and was shown the beautiful 
prize. 

“You must never take the blackbirds, 
Henry! ” exclaimed Alfred quite fiercely, and 
without expressing the least sympathy with 
Henry’s joy. 

“ Why not? ” asked Henry; “ you said, if I 
caught one I might have it; I have caught it, 
and it is mine! ” 

“You did say so, Alfred!” said Herbert; 


HENRY’S VISIT 


51 


“you did, Alfred; and you ought to be glad 
that Henry has been so lucky! ” 

“ Why, you know, Herbert,” said Alfred, 
turning angrily to him, “ that we never hurt 
or frighten the blackbirds—you know that well 
enough!” 

“ But I shall keep this now I have got it! ” 
said Henry. 

“ I will never lend my cage, however, to 
keep a blackbird in! ” said Alfred; and taking 
up the cage, he carried it downstairs. 

“ Are the blackbirds to be caught, mamma? ” 
asked Alfred of his mother, who was reading. 

“No, certainly not: I would not have the 
blackbirds frightened or distressed on any ac¬ 
count,” replied his mother, without making any 
inquiry as to the meaning of his question. 

Armed with this authority, Alfred opened 
the cage door, and the blackbird flew away. 
Henry, who had quietly followed Alfred down¬ 
stairs, burst into tears. Herbert stood also at 


52 THE CHILDREN’S TEAR 

the door, and, though he knew the established 
law in favor of blackbirds, he could not resist 
a feeling of anger and indignation on account 
of the arbitrary power which Alfred seemed so 
unkindly to have exercised. 

The true case was immediately stated to the 
mother and she, too, thought that Alfred had 
exercised his power in an unfeeling manner. 
She told him that the bird to Henry was some¬ 
thing like what the poor man’s lamb, in the 
Bible, was to him. The rich man came and 
took it away from him by force. Alfred had 
been as unkind in taking the bird from Henry. 

Alfred sat and pondered in silence. He felt 
angry and out of humor, and yet a sense of his 
own unkindness was heavy at his heart. An 
hour or two afterwards, he stood by the dining¬ 
room fire, where his sister Mary was sitting. 
He looked thoughtful and sad. 

“ I am very sorry,” said he, “ that I have 
been so unkind to Henry; and as he wishes so 


HENRY’S VISIT 53 

much for a blackbird, he shall have one. I 
know where a bird-trainer lives, and I will buy 
one from him. Will not that make up for my 
injustice? ” 

His sister approved of the idea, and was 
quite sure that Henry would accept the bird 
which Alfred would give him in the spirit of> 
love and kindness. 

Herbert, who in his indignation had said that 
he never would speak to Alfred again, and who 
had kept by Henry’s side in his trouble, trying 
all in his power to comfort him, was quite satis¬ 
fied when he heard his brother’s resolution. 

“ Yes, dear Alfred,” said he, “ buy him a 
blackbird that has lived in a cage all its life,— 
and give him the cage, too!—that will be nice! ” 

Alfred and Herbert shook hands. They felt 
how happy love and kindness made them, and 
they did not rest until Henry was as happy as 
themselves. 



CHAPTER VII 


mary’s little lesson 

Meggy loved her elder sister. It was a 
pleasure to her to know that Mary was in the 
house. Whenever she was away from home, 
for even one day, Meggy missed her very much. 
“ When will that dear creature come back? ” 
she would say; and Mary’s coming always 
made her feel happy. When Mary was draw¬ 
ing, or at any kind of needlework, Meggy liked 
to sit down near her and to draw and work like 
her. 

They often had long conversations together; 
there was something very mild and affection¬ 
ate in this dear elder sister’s voice and manner 
which had great influence on Meggy. 

The little girl had her faults, as we all have, 
hut in her small way, she wished very much to 
he good and to do right. She folded up her 

54 


MARY’S LITTLE LESSON 55 

own clothes, and could be trusted to do little 
errands for herself or for other people. She 
knew the places of her favorite books on the 
shelves, and carefully put them back again 
when she had been using them. She was very 
kind-hearted, too, and loved and fed the cat, 
which was considered her own property. Mary 
wished her to try to overcome her little faults, 
and whenever the two sisters had conversation 
on this subject, it gave Meggy strength to do 
her best toward conquering these faults. 

Mary and Meggy often talked about the 
minds and hearts of everybody being like gar¬ 
dens ; and how, if the garden be not cultivated, 
weeds are sure to spring up. Meggy knew that 
this was the very case in her own real garden. 
She had also often seen pieces of ground which 
had lain waste, even for a few months, and 
what a crop of weeds was then always sure to 
spring up,—here and there a thistle, here and 
there a nettle, and everywhere a plentiful crop 



56 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


of groundsel, and shepherd’s purse, and chick- 
weed; and how all these, when allowed to 
flower, had such a wonderful faculty of scat¬ 
tering their seed, that in a short time the earth 
would seem to be full of them! These were 
familiar images to the little girl, and she knew 
enough of gardens, and of the growth of weeds, 
to be able to carry out the idea still farther. 

Her sister also told Meggy that by care and 
attention her own nature might be like a beau¬ 
tiful well-kept garden stored with lovely and 
precious plants; but that faults were the weeds 

i 

that Meggy would have to watch for and root 
out. If she worked in earnest to destroy these, 
and to cherish the beautiful plants of goodness, 
the weeds would be conquered and the roses, 
lilies, and violets of love, purity, and unselfish¬ 
ness would grow abundantly. 

This was Mary’s little lesson, and Meggy 
understood every word of it and endeavored 
to profit by it. 


CHAPTER VIII 


SURPRISE AFTER SURPRISE 

Herbert and Meggy had great pleasure in 
playing at living in a house, and of having 
furniture and servants of their own, and of be¬ 
ing servants themselves. They played at hav¬ 
ing a house in the nursery every day; they en¬ 
closed a little space with chairs, and played that 
the window-seats were rooms—for theirs was 
an old-fashioned house, and many of the win¬ 
dows had seats in them, which they thus found 
a great convenience. One window-seat they 
called a parlor, and another a kitchen, or else 
both were called chambers. 

The children had a great deal of pleasure in 
pretending that they had no little trouble in 
their lives; there was no fun unless they had 
trouble and a great deal to do. Sometimes, 

57 


58 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

therefore, they pretended that a high wind 
came and blew part of their house down, so that 
all their belongings fell into the utmost con¬ 
fusion, and then they had to put everything 
to rights again. 

One of their favorite troubles was the having 
a bad neighbor. They called her Mrs. Ging¬ 
ham, and used to play that as soon as they had 
set their house in order, and had gone out to 
take a walk, she came and upset everything. 
It was wonderful how much they seemed to 
have to endure from Mrs. Gingham; but they 
evidently would have been very sorry not to 
have this neighbor, for without her they would 
have had much less to do, and it is the having 
plenty to do which makes the lives both of chil¬ 
dren and of grown people pleasant. 

They had many contrivances to make a fire¬ 
place in their playhouse, but often wished that 
they had something more satisfactory. 

One day their mother went into London, 


SURPRISE AFTER SURPRISE 


59 


and as she was returning she passed St. Paul’s 
Churchyard. It was getting quite dusk, but 
near the pavement stood a little boy, who 
looked not above ten years old, was very thin 
and pale, and had a very anxious expression of 
face. He held in his hand a little kitchen- 
range made of japanned tin with bright bars; 
it seemed strong and well made, and was very 
complete indeed. There were a great many 
things, such as pots and kettles, besides. The 
little boy held these in his hand, and said in a 
very melancholy voice, “ All these for only one 
shilling! ” 

The children’s mother saw the boy and the 
little things he had to sell, and heard what he 
said, but she walked on. She could not help be¬ 
ing touched by his pale face and sad voice; and 
as soon as she had passed him she thought that 
it would be only kind to buy something from 
him, remembering at the same time how 
pleased Herbert and Meggy would be with a 


60 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


little kitchen-range for their house. So she 
turned back, and asked the boy if he would 
carry it for her to the omnibus at the Bank, if 
she bought it. He said he would, and seemed 
at the same time quite grateful to her for 
thinking of buying anything from him. 

He had very old shoes on, and went shuf¬ 
fling along with a great deal of trouble; besides 
this he had a bundle on his back, which, on in¬ 
quiry, the children’s mother found to contain 
other little ranges, and cooking and kitchen 
utensils, like those he had in his hand. She 
made him walk by her side, and she talked 
with him as they went along. 

In answer to her questions, he said that he 
and his stepfather, who was a tinsmith by trade, 
made these little things; they stayed at home 
two or three days making them, and, when 
they had a good stock, they went out to sell 
them. Working in a hot room, and then go¬ 
ing out in the cold weather, and standing about 



“All these for only one shilling!”— Page 59, 












































































































SURPRISE AFTER SURPRISE 


61 


in his poor thin clothes, must be what made 
him take such bad colds; he never was well. 

There were five children, and he was the old- 

♦ 

est of them; his own father was dead, and his 
mother had married again, but his stepfather 
was kind to him. He could neither read nor 
write, and had never been to school. His own 
father used to teach him a little in the even¬ 
ings; but now they had to work so hard, they 
had no time for learning. 

The children’s mother asked him what was 
the greatest number of little ranges that he 
ever sold in a day. He said that once he sold 
seven, and then he was pleased; but that now 
he seldom sold above one or two. 

“ I have only sold this one to-day,” said he, 
in his sad voice, “ and I have been out ever 
since eight o’clock this morning, and it is so 
cold!” 

It was a very cold evening. The children’s 
mother was cold, though she was well wrapped 


62 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


up. She was very sorry for the little boy, and 
spoke kindly to him; she thanked him for 
carrying the things to the omnibus, and then 
gave him sixpence for his trouble. 

As she went home, she thought of the great 
delight all these things would give to Herbert 
and Meggy. She found them sitting, with 
their father and elder brother and sister, com¬ 
fortably round the fire. She did not tell them 
how many things she had brought, but at first 
carried in only the little range. 

“ See,” said she, “ will not this make your 
house complete? ” 

The children jumped for joy, and clapped 
their hands. 

“ This is a very nice range,” she said; “ and 
see, there is a capital fender belonging to it! 
It only wants a few kettles and saucepans.” 

The children thought that kettles and sauce¬ 
pans would indeed make it complete. She 
went out of the room for a moment, and 


SURPRISE AFTER SURPRISE 


63 


brought in the most perfect little kettles and 
saucepans that ever were seen; there was a tea¬ 
kettle and a fish-kettle, and two saucepans, one 
large and the other small. 

“ Oh, how beautiful! ” exclaimed the chil¬ 
dren, beginning to arrange them on the hobs 
and bars of their little range. “ Never was 
anything so beautiful seen before! Thank you, 
dearest, dearest mother!” 

“ I think,” said she, “ that a little Dutch 
oven, and a hanging-bar, and a couple of 
smoothing-irons would not be amiss! ” 

The children looked at her in amazement, 
and then looked at one another, and laughed, 
as if they thought there was some strange 
magic at work. “ Oh, they would be nice! ” 
exclaimed both children. No sooner was this 
said, than she placed these things before them. 
Their father and brother and sister were by 
this time as much astonished as Herbert and 
Meggy were. 


64 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


Everybody laughed, and said that mother 
dear was a conjuror. 

“ A very nice little kitchen-range is this! ” 
said she gravely; “ but it would be very incon¬ 
venient to bring coal to the fire in a kettle.” 

“A kettle! ” said the children; “ people never 
carry coal in a kettle, but in a coal-box! ” 

“ But where is your coal-box? ” asked she. 

They had not thought about that. 

“ I must try to find you a coal-box,” said 
she, smiling, and the next moment set down 
before them the prettiest little japanned coal- 
box that ever was seen! 

“ And then,” said she, “ when you want to 
stir your fire, you must not use your fingers, 
else you would burn yourselves, you know; so 
here are a poker, and a fire-shovel and tongs: 
and when you want to carry away your dust, 
you must not take a spoon—that would be 
very untidy—so here is a regular dust-pan; 
and then, as some day or other you may like 


SURPRISE AFTER SURPRISE 65 

to dine on fried eggs, see, here is a frying-pan 
and an egg-slice 5 only we take no notice of the 
egg-slice being as large as the frying-pan— 
that’s of no consequence, you know.” 

Nobody interrupted her in this long speech. 
But she had now done, for she had come to the 
end of all the things. And then there was a 
fresh burst of wonder and admiration. Never 
had such things been dreamed of. 

At tea she told them about the poor little 
pale-faced boy with the sad voice, from whom 
she had bought the things, and the children 
wished that they had him there, to give him 
some warm tea and bread and butter, and a 
pair of good shoes. They would have thought 
even more about him than they did, if they 
had not been so much occupied with thinking 
of their new kitchen-range, and all their pans 
and kettles. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ROOKS AND THE SPARROWS 

Spring came on and the sparrows began to 
build. The rooks, too, were very busy in the 
old rookery just beside the garden, cawing 
early and late, and flying into all the trees 
round about for sticks. They would break off 
little branches with their beaks and fly away 
with them to their own trees. 

The rooks quarrelled a great deal among 
themselves. They stole one another’s sticks; 
and if a sentinel had not been left to watch the 
rooks that remained at home, these would 
have pillaged the half-built nests of those that 
were gone away. Herbert and Meggy took 
the greatest interest in the rooks. 

The entire back of the house where the chil¬ 
dren lived was covered with ivy; it grew very 

66 


THE ROOKS AND THE SPARROWS 67 

wild and thick, and great numbers of spar¬ 
rows built in it, and roosted every night among 
its leaves. In the winter Meggy fed the spar¬ 
rows. She had given them names, and fancied 
that she knew them all one from another. She 
considered the sparrows to be her own, and was 
very fond of them. 

In the spring the ivy was cut. It was cut 
very close to the wall, so that there was no 
chance for the sparrows to build or roost in it 
again—that year, at least. It was very amus¬ 
ing to the children to see the men on their long 
ladders, clipping away the green ivy till only 
the bare branches, with their innumerable lit¬ 
tle fibry arms, were left. But when Meggy 
thought of her sparrows she was very sorry. 

As evening came on the sparrows became 
very uneasy. They flew up against the bare 
walls, as if trying to find shelter, and then flew 
away again into a large tree, fluttering about, 
twittering and chattering in evident dismay 


68 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


and anger. It was just as if anybody going 
to bed had found all the sheets and blankets 
gone, and nothing left to cover him. 

Such an event as this certainly had not oc¬ 
curred to the sparrows before. They flew 
about and chattered, and almost screamed with 
astonishment. But there was plenty of old 
wild ivy in a long wall in the garden; and 
before long, sparrows’ nests were to be seen 
wherever they could be put. 

Before many weeks had passed, young rooks 
were heard sending forth their cries from the 
nests in the tall elm-trees, now almost green 
with their young leaves. The children watched 
the busy parent rooks feeding the young birds, 
and Herbert had great pleasure in pointing 
out to his mother and sisters the starlings that 
lived among the rooks being allowed by them 
to build in the same trees. 


CHAPTER X 


THE PLAYHOUSE IN THE GARDEN 

The children now spent many hours each 
day in the garden; and as they still had great 
pleasure in playing at living in a house, they 
began to consider where their house should be. 
But no long consideration was needed for this 
subject. 

In a secluded part of the garden there was 
a little tool-house with a rustic porch. It was 
overshadowed by a flowering acacia, and the 
whole front was overrun with ivy and a Scotch 
rose. The house consisted of two rooms, the 
inner one of which had a little casement win¬ 
dow of four panes. Here, in former times, 
Alfred had kept his guinea-pigs, but it was 
now filled with rubbish. 

This was the place which of all others Her¬ 
bert and Meggy wished to have for their 

69 


70 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

house, because both rooms were so pleasant. 
The first looked out from its door under the 
acacia-tree; and the other had a pretty pic¬ 
turesque window, which would open and shut 
and which was surrounded with ivy. 

Nobody can tell what pleasure it was to 
Herbert and Meggy to shut themselves up in 
this pretty little house. They fancied a great 
many delightful things about it which they 
told to nobody; and as their father saw that 
they enjoyed it so much, he said that it should 
be theirs, and that nobody should disturb them 
in it. 

Oh, how charming it was, when the sun shone 
through the little window, and the bright form 
of the four little panes lay on the floor! There 
was a shelf—not a high one, but a very broad 
and strong one—in the first room, and this 
they called “ upstairs.” Their mother lent 
them a nice little step-ladder, and this they 
placed against the shelf, and it was the stair- 


THE PLAYHOUSE IN THE GARDEN 71 

case. They set the dolls’ cradle on the shelf, 
and all such things as made it look like a bed¬ 
room; and here they used to put the two dolls 
—Sophia and Alice—to sleep, while they were 
busy about their household work. They found 
in a lumber-room a piece of old Indian mat¬ 
ting, with which they covered the floor of the 
inner room, and then they put a board across 
the first room to divide it into two parts; and 
thus they had a hall and a kitchen, while the 
little inner apartment was a grand drawing¬ 
room. 

One day their friend Henry came to see 
them; he put up two little lower shelves 
for them, one in each room,—and these were 
chimney-pieces. The beautiful kitchen-range 
which their mother had given them was of 
course put in its place; a set of little candle¬ 
sticks and other things stood on the mantel¬ 
piece; a fire was always supposed to be burn¬ 
ing in the grate, and a pot was always on the 



72 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

fire; the coal-box was filled with tidy little 
pieces of coal;—and nothing could be prettier 
or more complete. The children also dec¬ 
orated their walls with little pictures, and 
hung up a smart yellow cord and tassel for a 
bell; they hung some lilac ribbons, which had 
once trimmed their sister’s bonnet, festoon-wise 
above their window, and these were their hand¬ 
some curtains. The gardener gave them some 
cuttings of evergreens, which they set in little 
pots and placed in the window. They invited 
many people to go to see them in their house, 
and nothing could make them happier than 
having visitors. 

It was still a favorite amusement to play at 
having a troublesome and bad neighbor. They 
played that the same Mrs. Gingham who had 
disturbed them so much in their other house, 
had, like themselves, removed, and that she 
now lived just by them in the melon-bed, and 
that whenever their backs were turned she 


THE PLAYHOUSE IN THE GARDEN 73 

came and put all their things into disorder. 
They pretended that she had a husband as bad 
as herself, and children a great deal worse. 

“ Why do you not play that Mrs. Gingham 
is a good, useful neighbor? ” asked somebody 
one day, “ and that she has a friendly husband 
and good children? ” 

“ It would not be half so funny,” replied 
they; “and then we always have so much to do 
after any of the Ginghams have been here.” 

The delight of Herbert and Meggy in their 
house and the garden increased as the long hot 
summer days came on. It was very shady and 
cool and pleasant there, and there they spent 
all their spare time. They were particularly 
delighted if a shower came on when they were 
in their house,—a right heavy shower. This 
always pleased them, for then it seemed as if 
the house were more just their own—as if they 
were living quite away from everybody else— 
almost as if they were on a desert island. 



CHAPTER XI 


HERBERT AND THE BEES 

When Herbert watched the rooks, he often 
stood in a long walk by the side of which ran 
an old brick wall. It was a very charming old 
wall; white and crimson snap-dragon, and yel¬ 
low wall-flowers grew on the top of it, and as 
it faced the south it was almost covered with 
roses, and white and yellow jasmine. It was 
not so entirely covered, however, but that Her¬ 
bert could see that it was inhabited by a great 
many busy little bees. Nobody told him about 
the bees: he found them himself, and that was 
a delight. The old mortar between the bricks 
was full of holes, and Herbert saw the bees 
go in and then come out again through these 
holes. Scarcely anything had ever given him 

so much pleasure. He would stand for an 

74 


HERBERT AND THE BEES 75 

hour at a time to watch them, and if anybody 
would come and stand with him and hear all 
he could tell about the bees, he was much 
pleased; but if not, then he stood and watched 
them by himself. 

Meggy did not care much about the bees. 
She would look at them just to please him for 
a few minutes, but then she was always in a 
hurry to run away again. Herbert, however, 
stood patiently, and learned many things about 
them by his own observation. Some were 
mason bees, that worked very industriously, 
making cells and walling them up with clay 
after the eggs had been laid in them. Some 
of the bees were much larger than others, and 
these he called his humble-bees. Many of 
these big bees were very sluggish, and little 
active brown bees would come buzzing about 
them and creeping over them. When the days 
were sunny and hot, how busy the bees were! 
Little brown bees, as brisk and active as flies, 


76 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

and a grayish-yellow kind, and black bees, all 
lived in the wall. 

Herbert thought it very funny to see the 
bees always come backwards out of their holes; 
and this little circumstance pleased him, be¬ 
cause he could thus understand something 
about their dwellings. It proved to him that 
they were not wide enough inside for the bees 
to turn round in. They were long narrow pas¬ 
sages, with a sort of little bed at the end in 
which they laid their eggs and their honey. 
Herbert often wished that—just for a little 
while—he could be a bee, and live in a hole in 
the wall. It seemed very pleasant to him to 
have a house in that sunny place all amongst 
the roses and the jasmines. He thought about 
it till he almost felt as if he were a bee! 

He studied the bees attentively, till he was 
quite sure that he knew every one, even when 
he saw them a good way from home. He used 
to say, “ That bee lives under a branch of the 



HERBERT AND THE BEES 77 

Macartney rose; ” or, “ That fellow lives high 
up among the yellow jasmine; ” and his mother 
thought he really was not mistaken, because 
when she had time to attend to them with him 
she always found him right. 

He would bring out Meggy’s little wheel¬ 
barrow and tyrn it upside down in the walk 
for his seat; and there, when he was tired of 
standing, he used to sit. There was not any¬ 
thing in the whole garden which interested him 
more, for a long time, than the bees in the old 
brick wall. 

Herbert watched his bees until he saw them 
fasten up all their holes with clay, and then 
he knew that they had left the eggs in these 
cells to hatch. He looked on the old wall with 
pleasure. It was now all covered with flowers, 
and he could not help fancying that the bees 
had had much pleasure in their summer work. 

Besides the bees, Herbert watched with 
great interest a colony of ants that lived under 


78 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

one of the gravel walks in the garden. They 
seemed to pass all their time in coming up out 
of the holes on one side, crossing the walk 
and going down into the holes on the other. 
He wondered very much what they did this 
for, what sort of underground world they had; 
hut he could not tell. , 

Many of the ants carried little white eggs in 
their mouths; many others seemed to carry 
nothing, but came running up and crossing the 
walk, and running down on the other side, just 
as if to do that were the merriest thing in the 
world. There was a little busy stream of ants 
always going and coming, like the people in a 
London street. 

Herbert felt very fond of the ants, and al¬ 
ways begged people not to tread on them as 
they passed along; and whenever he could find 
a dead fly or spider he took it to the ants, and 
had the pleasure of seeing them enjoy the feast. 

Herbert knew of many birds’ nests in the 


i 


HERBERT AND THE BEES 79 

garden: there was the blackbird’s, and a fly¬ 
catcher’s, and a robin’s, and plenty of spar¬ 
rows’ nests. He loved the birds as well as the 
bees. He would sit and watch them flying 
about with their young ones. Now and then 
he happened to catch one. What a delight that 
was! Poor little thing, its heart would beat, 
and it would be all in a flutter, and it would 
cry piteously, but that was only because it did 
not know how much Herbert loved it. He was 
very glad to have a live bird in his hand: to see 
its beak, its eyes, its breast, its little legs—to 
know really what it was like. He wished he 
could make it understand how he loved it, and 
that he would not hurt it. 

Whenever he caught a bird or a mouse, he 
thought of it for hours afterwards. He felt 
as if it were still in his hand long after it was 
gone, and he could not help talking to every¬ 
body about it. 

“ What would that little bird say when I 



80 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


caught it? ” he would ask; and was much 
pleased if somebody made up an answer. 

Herbert was very quick both with his hands 
and with his eyes. He could readily see the 
tracks of any small animal on the borders when 
nobody else could without the closest observa¬ 
tion. His mother said that he was like an In¬ 
dian in the forest, when set on the trail of an 
animal. He was invariably the first to see any 
little lizard or shining beetle running along the 
grass; and he could always manage to catch 
them, let them run ever so fast. 

He often used to catch and carry his bees 
in his two hands, which he closed like a box for 
several minutes at a time,—and he had great 
pleasure in hearing them hum as he thus held 
them; but they never stung him, most likely 
because he never hurt them. 

The bees and the birds and the ants, as well 
as the little house in the garden, made Herbert 
very happy this summer. 


CHAPTER XII 


HERBERT LEAVES HOME 

After the midsummer of this year Herbert 
was to go to school,—not as a day-scholar, but 
as a boarder,—so that he would have to leave 
his home and his parents and his brother and 
sisters; but, above all, he would have to leave 
his dear little sister Meggy. That seemed a 
very great trouble to them both. 

Herbert rather liked the idea of going to 
school^ for he knew the lady and gentleman 
with whom he was to be placed, and who lived 
not above two miles from his own home; and 
he was to come home every Saturday evening, 
and go again on Monday morning, so that it all 
seemed pleasant enough. 

Only one thing troubled him, and that was 
leaving Meggy; for he loved her very much, 

81 


82 


THE CHILDREN’S TEAR 


and they played so nicely together in their 
house in the garden; and now that the summer 
days were so long and so warm, they were al¬ 
most always together out of doors or in their 
house. Yes, he should be very, very sorry to 
part from Meggy. That was the one thing 
that made him sad when he thought about go¬ 
ing to school. 

At length the day came when he was to go. 
He had some new clothes, and they were 
packed in a nice little trunk which his grand¬ 
mother had given him. He was to wear every 
day what had been his best suit. He had a 
new transparent slate, a new knife, and a top 
and some marbles, and these, too, were packed 
in his trunk. 

Herbert felt quite in a flutter, as if some¬ 
thing very new and strange were going to 
happen. He did not know exactly whether 
he were pleased, or frightened, or sorry, or 
what was amiss with him. 


HERBERT LEAVES HOME 


83 


As soon as breakfast was over, he and 
Meggy went to their house to put everything 
in order,—for Herbert was not to go till after 
dinner, and they had the whole morning to do 
it in. They cleaned all their things and ar¬ 
ranged all their furniture to the best advan¬ 
tage : they put coal in their kitchen grate, and 
set the pots and kettles on the fire as if they 
were cooking a great dinner. The dishes and 
plates were ranged in their prettiest order on 
the kitchen shelves; the little knife-tray, with 
the knives and forks in it, stood on the little 
kitchen-dresser,—and it all looked as neat and 
tidy as if the cook who lived there were the 
fairy queen herself! 

The children now played that somebody had 
just told them that Mrs. Gingham and her 
husband and children had gone to America, 
so they would no longer be troubled by these 
mischievous neighbors. They laid one of the 
dolls in bed in the little chamber; and their 


84 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

drawing-room, they thought, looked neater and 
more elegant than ever. There was a hand¬ 
some piece of carpeting on the floor; half a 
dozen large flower-pots, turned upside down* 
stood around for seats; a table which Alfred 
had made for them stood in the centre, covered 
with its gay cloth; and little books in bright 
covers lay about in elegant disorder. In the 
middle of the table stood an old inkstand, now 
well-washed and filled with flowers, which 
looked very pretty indeed. The walls were 
newly adorned with large pictures from the 
Illustrated London News . 

The children thought that they had never 
seen anything so charming as this room. How 
they wished that they could live there always! 
They played that the family was going from 
home for a long time, so they drew down the 
Venetian blind that the furniture might not be 
faded. 

While they were busy playing at all this. 


HERBERT LEAVES HOME 


85 


they did not think about the parting which was 
to take place so soon. 

Herbert’s trunk and all his things had been 
sent off, and now he had had his dinner, and 
he and his mother were going to walk to the 
school. She proposed that Meggy should go 
with them, for by this means she thought the 
parting would be easier. Their things were 
put on, and off they set as cheerfully as could 
be, neither Meggy nor Herbert seeming to 
be troubled about anything. 

They were very merry, one on each side of 
their mother, and talked happily about the 
things which they saw by the way,—the gay 
carriages, and the horses, and the omnibuses 
and whatever else came along. 

Suddenly, Meggy was delighted to see a 
little old man who sold green-groceries and 
flower roots of various kinds. He was an old 
acquaintance of hers, and she always called him 
her old man. He was shouting, “ Green peas! 



86 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


Sixpence a peck!” when he caught sight of 
Meggy. She had seen him just before, and 
had pulled at her mother’s hand, and leaned 
forward to Herbert, to make them notice him. 

The old man ceased to say any more about 
his peas when he saw Meggy, and setting down 
his wheelbarrow, he took off his hat, and 
smiled with a very good-natured, happy look. 

“ Good day, my little lady,” said he. 

“ How are you to-day, and how is your 
wife? ” asked Meggy, as her mother and Her¬ 
bert both stopped and spoke to him, and ad¬ 
mired the nice little roots of pinks and pansies 
which he had to sell. 

It was always very pleasant to Meggy to 
see this poor old man. She felt that he was a 
friend of hers; and besides this, she knew that 
if it had not been for her, nobody in the house 
would have taken any notice of him. She had 
always a great deal to say about him when they 
met him anywhere; and now she told her 


HERBERT LEAVES HOME 


87 


mother and Herbert that he was a very nice old 
man, and very sober, and that all the money 
he gained by selling his vegetables and his 
flowers he took home to his old wife, who was 
a very nice old woman, only she was very, very 
short—quite a dwarf; and that every Sunday 
they went to church together; and when there 
were flowers to be had, he always had a nice 
little bunch of something in his coat, and when 
there were no flowers he had a little sprig of 
evergreen. 

The talk about the old man and his little old 
wife brought them to the place where Herbert 
was to go to school. 

There were several boys already there; and 
one little fellow came to meet Herbert very 
kindly, and wanted to take him into the play¬ 
ground, where some of his future companions 
were amusing themselves. But Herbert did 
not wish to go; he held very firmly by his 
mother’s hand, and looked very grave. 


88 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


The lady of the school spoke kindly to him, 
and he knew that she was very kind and good, 
but he felt as if he could not talk. He stood 
beside his mother as she sat on the sofa, and 
still grasped her hand. 

A strange feeling of the reality of going to 
school had now come over him. It was no 
longer a joke; he and Meggy were not playing 
at it, and it made him very serious. But still 
he was not sorry that he was going to school, 
nor had he any intention of crying, but he felt 
that it really was a serious business. 

And now his mother and Meggy rose to go. 
Meggy kissed him, but she did not cry, and 
Herbert kissed her. He still grasped his 
mother’s hand, and that so tightly, that it was 
almost painful to her; she looked in his face, 
and saw that he was very pale. 

“ Good-bye, dear Herbert,” she said, kissing 
him, and disengaging her hand. 

Herbert looked at her with his large blue 


HERBERT LEAVES HOME 


89 


eyes without smiling, but he said nothing. He 
was keeping back his tears. He did not mean 
to cry, but he knew that if he spoke he should 
cry in spite of himself. 

He felt rather forlorn, and rather afraid of 
the boys, when his mother and Meggy were 
gone; he looked through the window at the boys 
at play, but he did not wish to go to them. 
The lady of the school gave him some pictures 
to look at; so he sat down and amused himself 
with them until tea time. 

He could not help thinking about his own 
happy home, and Meggy, and the pretty house 
in the garden. But he did not shed one tear; 
and after he had once seen the faces of all the 
boys at tea, he allowed a little boy, who was 
just his own age, to persuade him to go out 
to play. Playing with so many boys, and most 
of them little ones like himself, he soon found 
to be very pleasant. Before long, Herbert was 
sure that he should be happy at school. 


CHAPTER XIII 


MEGGY^S JOURNEY 

Meggy was very lonely without her brother. 
When she came back into her own home, the 
whole sense of her solitude fell upon her. She 
saw Herbert’s garden hat in the hall, and she 
could not help crying. The nursery seemed 
empty, so did the garden; and as for the pretty 
little house, in which she had formerly enjoyed 
so much happiness, she thought she could never 
again bear to go near it. Everybody was very 
sorry for her, but the more that was said to 
her, the more unhappy she felt. She could not 
help wishing that there were no schools for 
little boys to go to. 

A few days after Herbert was gone, how¬ 
ever, Ellen the nurse set off with Meggy into 
the country for several weeks. This was an ex- 

90 


MEGGY’S JOURNEY 


91 


cursion which had been talked of for a long 
time, but which had been deferred till after 
Herbert had gone to school, because their 
mother knew that parting from him would be 
so great a sorrow to his little sister, and knew 
that this pleasure would divert her mind. 

Meggy was overjoyed to see all her things 
laid out ready, and then packed in a trunk. 
She took one of her dolls with her, and her 
work-box, and her silver thimble,—although 
nobody expected that she would find much 
time for sewing. 

She was going into quite a country place. 
A little girl, whose parents lived in London, 
was staying there, so Meggy would have a 
companion to play with, and her mother did 
not wish her to do anything in the way of les¬ 
sons except a little reading. 

They were going to stay at Ellen’s home; 
and this was in the very village where Meggy’s 
father and mother had once lived, and where 


92 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


both Meggy and Herbert were born, although 
Meggy could remember nothing at all about 
the place. She was very fond of Ellen, who 
had lived in the family ever since Meggy was a 
few months old; and the thought of going on 
this journey with her was as pleasant as any¬ 
thing could be. 

The morning came on which they were to set 
off. Meggy had thought for a long time of this 
journey, and had fancied how it would be. 
But she had always fancied it on a fine, sun¬ 
shiny morning, just such as one imagines sum¬ 
mer mornings always are. But Meggy’s fan¬ 
cies were wrong this time; for it rained very 
hard. 

When people got up in the morning it 
rained; and the first word everybody said was, 
“What a wet day for Meggy’s journey!” 
Her mother thought that they had better defer 
going for a day or two, till the weather was 
finer. But this was an idea that neither Meggy 


MEGGY’S JOURNEY 


93 


nor Ellen liked at all; and besides, everybody 
hoped it would be quite fine before noon. So, 
in spite of the rain, they set off. 

It still rained when they reached London, 
and as they drove through the city nothing was 
to be seen but wet streets and wet umbrellas, 
and everything looked damp and dreary. But 
neither Meggy nor Ellen were out of spirits 
for such a trifle as that: they were sure it 
would be fine enough long before they reached 
the country; and they did not mind about the 
weather anywhere else. 

They went by railroad the rest of their jour¬ 
ney, fourteen miles, into Surrey, to the pleas¬ 
ant neighborhood of Claremont, where Queen 
Victoria, at that time, had her country house; 
and where she and her little children went for 
quietness and recreation, just as Meggy and 
Ellen were now doing. 

Meggy enjoyed skimming along in the rail¬ 
way carriage very much. It was not the first 


94 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


time she had made such a journey, but that 
did not signify. It was a great delight to her 
to arrive at the Vauxhall terminus and see all 
the stir and bustle there; people driving up in 
cabs and carriages, and omnibuses full of peo¬ 
ple and their luggage—and to see them hurry¬ 
ing to get their tickets, and to see Ellen get 
hers, and then the porters running off with the 
luggage, and to feel herself and Ellen running 
on after it; then to see people getting into the 
carriages, and to feel herself lifted in, and to 
see Ellen come in with smiling face, and hear 
her say, “ Thank you, sir,” to a civil gentle¬ 
man who had told her it was all right about 
their boxes. 

Then Meggy stood up at the window of the 
carriage, and watched all that was going on, till 
the second bell rang, and the steam gave a 
scream, and the train was put in motion, and 
off they went,—at first rather slowly, and then 
very fast. The road seemed like a long gravel- 


MEGGY’S JOURNEY 


95 


colored ribbon drawn out, and the white posts 
at each quarter of a mile flashed by as if close 
to one another. When a train came on a track 
near them it was almost frightful as it rushed 
past like a flash of dark lightning. 

Oh, how delightful to stand at the window 
and watch it all! How many market gardens 
they passed after leaving London, and then 
how many pretty villas, and gentlemen’s 
houses, and green sloping parks, and little vil¬ 
lages, and fields where the hay was half made! 
And then there were the different stations, 
where some passengers got out and others came 
in. All this was very entertaining, and the 
only thing that Meggy needed to make her 
happiness complete was to have Herbert in the 
same carriage with her, to enjoy everything 
as much as she did. 

The prophecy about the rain clearing off 
before they reached the country proved false, 
for when they arrived at Ditton station, where 


96 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

they had to leave the railroad, it rained as fast 
as it had done any time that morning. It 
really seemed to rain faster. 

Although it was July, there were pools of 
water all over the common at Ditton; the cocks 
and hens stood looking very forlornly patient 
on one leg under carts or hovels; and the very 
ducks and geese looked dabbled and discon¬ 
tented, as if they thought there had been quite 
rain enough for one day. 

But neither Ellen nor Meggy looked trou¬ 
bled, however the ducks and geese might look; 
for no sooner were they out of the railroad car¬ 
riage with all their boxes, than up came Ellen’s 
father, smiling and looking very much pleased 
to see them; and he had a nice covered spring- 
cart to take them to his house. 

Meggy was delighted; she smiled, and felt 
ready to jump for joy as she saw the boxes 
put in the spring-cart, and saw how glad Ellen 
was to see her old father, who looked so merry 


MEGGY’S JOURNEY 


97 


and kind. The spring-cart seemed like a little 
room, and Meggy could not help thinking how 
nicely Herbert and she could have lived in it, 
as they went merrily along over the wet com¬ 
mon to Ellen’s home. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE NEW PLAYMATE 

The cottage where Ellen’s parents lived was 
a very pleasant old-fashioned country cottage. 
It stood in a garden, part of which was full of 
flowers, and the rest was kitchen-garden and 
orchard combined. There were, of course, a 
great many apple, and pear, and cherry trees; 
there were also strawberry beds, and raspberry 
and gooseberry and currant bushes. Plentiful 
as the fruit was, Meggy never gathered any 
herself, because Ellen’s father sold his fruit, 
but as he was a very good-natured old man, 
he often gave her some of the finest and ripest 
that he had. 

There were two tall cypresses, that rose up 
like dark green spires, in front of the white 
cottage; and over its green porch was trained 

98 


THE NEW PLAYMATE 


99 


a beautiful honeysuckle, which was now in 
flower, and which smelled very sweet. 

The cottage stood upon the edge of a village 
green, or common, along which wound a good 
road. This green was nearly as smooth as a 
lawn, and at a distance, with here and there a 
fine old tree, looked like a park. The cot¬ 
tagers who lived around it in houses which 
were half-buried in trees, kept many geese, and 
these fed on the common, and made it look 
very lively. 

Just by the gate which led into the garden 
of Ellen’s father, there ran a little brook, which 
at this particular place spread out into a pond; 
and this being overhung with old willow-trees, 
looked very pretty. Here the geese came to 
swim and enjoy themselves in the water. 
Meggy was very much pleased with the cot¬ 
tage, and the green, and the geese, and the 
pond overhung with the old willow-trees. 

Louisa, the little girl who had come from 


100 


TEE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


London for country air, was a year younger 
than Meggy, and was a very nice little girl. 
She had been several weeks at the cottage be¬ 
fore Meggy came, so that she was able to show 
her everything. 

The day after that on which Meggy and 
Ellen arrived was very fine, and the hot July 
sun soon dried up all wet from the surface of 
the ground. The children went into the garden 
and looked at the flowers and the fruit, and 
saw Ellen’s father gather peas. 

There had been in the spring plenty of vio¬ 
lets and primroses on the tall banks of the gar¬ 
den-hedge; now the little girls saw their wild, 
thick, green leaves growing; and Meggy, who 
knew more about flowers and country things 
than little Louisa, had the pleasure of telling 
her which were which, and of showing her the 
pretty little blue robin-run-in-the-hedge, and 
the wild hop which was beginning to send forth 
its long sprays above the top of the hedge. 




•) 

«> 

* 

f) o 


THE NEW PLAYMATE 


101 


Meggy felt herself very happy. She had not 
been so happy since Herbert went to school. 

At the back of the house there was a rather 
wild piece of ground, which was overgrown 
with grass, and not at all cultivated. Here the 
little girls were told that they might play; 
might do just what they pleased, for here they 
could do no mischief. 

At the end of this piece of ground, and just 
opposite the house, stood a very old wooden 
barn. Gray and yellow lichens grew upon 
its wooden walls, and house-leek and beau¬ 
tiful masses of golden-flowered stonecrop upon 
its old roof. 

This building had once been a cow-shed, 
but now was used only to house fuel, and 
pea-sticks, and garden-tools. Here, too, the 
hens and the broods of chickens lodged; and 
up near the roof lived the lovely white and 
blue pigeons that came flying down every 
morning to be fed with vetches, which the little 


102 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


girls, to their great delight, were allowed to 
scatter on the ground for them. 

On one side of the rough field was a lane 
which led to a village not far off. This lane 
was much lower than the field, and was divided 
from it by an old hedge in which grew crab- 
apple-trees and wild plum-trees, and which was 
a perfect tangle of single roses and brambles. 

It was very interesting to the little girls to 
peep down into this lane, and see now and then 
a man, perhaps, driving a cow along it, or a 
woman in a red shawl with a basket or bundle, 
or a little child going along on an errand, per¬ 
haps a rosy-cheeked lad in a smock frock, or 
two or three little children, hand in hand, going 
to or coming from school. 

Meggy and Louisa were very fond of these 
peeps, and sometimes they called, “ Cuckoo! ” 
to some one in the lane. It was great fun to 
make the passer-by look up to see who was 
there. If it were a grown-up person, the 



Sometimes they called. “Cuckoo !”—Page 102. 


























THE NEW PLAYMATE 


103 


children would run away, but if it were a child, 
they only shouted, “ Cuckoo! ” louder than 
ever, and nodded and smiled, and looked as 
happy as the bird itself. 

This hedge, however, had something which 
belonged to it much more remarkable even 
than the lane,—and that was an old wooden 
summer-house, which seemed stuck into the 
hedge, like a great big nest. It was open to 
the front, and had a nice dry wooden floor. At 
the back, and overlooking the lane, were two 
little, tiny windows, each of one pane of glass, 
one of which was now broken. There were 
two old wooden chairs in the summer-house, 
and a block of wood, covered with carpeting, as 
a footstool. As soon as Meggy saw it she 
thought how charmingly they could play at 
having a house there. 

Louisa had never been used to play at hav¬ 
ing a house, but she soon found it quite as 
delightful as Meggy and Herbert had done. 



104 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


They swept out the house, pretending that a 
very untidy person had lived there before 
them; they cleaned the one remaining window; 
they dusted the chairs, and made all very neat 
and orderly. They hunted about, and found 
many broken pieces of earthenware, which they 
stood up for plates and dishes. 

There was a very little, old-fashioned, rusty 
fireplace in one corner, and this they filled with 
sticks and little bits of coal; they rolled up 
pieces of white paper and stuck them into the 
holes of empty spools, and these were candles 
in candlesticks; they brought in their dolls for 
children, and felt as if they were quite com¬ 
fortably settled there. Meggy thought it was 
almost, if not quite, as nice as the house in the 
garden at home. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE DOG MUSCITY 

Besides themselves, a gentleman lodged at 
the cottage. He was a good-natured man, 
and used often to speak very kindly to the 
children when he met them in the garden or on 
the stairs. Sometimes he would open his parlor 
door and call them in; then he would take a 
key from his pocket and open a cupboard door, 
and give them nice little round and heart- 
shaped cakes. He had a little dog; a rough, 
queer-looking, gray Scotch terrier called 
Muschy. 

Muschy was always running about and pok¬ 
ing his nose into holes and corners, and smell¬ 
ing here and there. He never harked at the 
little girls, although he used to bark at almost 
everybody else that came to the house. They 
often called Muschy into their house, and 

105 


106 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


would have felt delighted if he would have 
stayed with them. But he was always fidget¬ 
ing about, and would not be still a minute. 
They did not know at all how to manage him. 

One day they determined to play at having 
a dinner party. They invited their dolls to 
come, and the dolls accepted the invitation; 
they invited Muschy, and Muschy very politely 
said that he would come. Their dinner was a 

capital one; they had cakes, and apples, and 

» 

gooseberries, and currants,—which they called 
fish and roast beef, and apple-pie, and goose¬ 
berry pudding. 

The dolls and they would enjoy all these 
very much, but there was Muschy to be pro¬ 
vided for. He did not turn up his nose at 
cake, but as for apples, and gooseberries, and 
currants, he would not touch them; so they 
collected all the hones which were left af¬ 
ter dinner, and with these they thought they 
should make a real feast for Muschy. 


THE DOG MUSCHY 


107 


They set out their dinner beautifully, and 
placed their dolls one on each side, and then 
fetched in Muschy. But he was unusually 
unruly that day. They wanted to make him 
sit tidily on his hind legs, as he did at his 
master’s bidding, but all their efforts with him 
were in vain. As they were both very busy 
trying to bring him into order, they heard, all 
at once, a sound outside the summer-house as 
if somebody had climbed up the bank from the 
lane. They looked at one another, and then 
glanced at the little broken window; and there, 
without a doubt, was some one. 

Muschy sprang up and overturned the 
dinner-table, barking and whining as if he 
were out of his senses. Meggy and Louisa ran 
out screaming, though they knew not at what. 
They had seen a man with a hat on at the 
window; but why that should frighten them, 
they could not tell. Both children, how¬ 
ever, had heard a voice which said, “ I see 


108 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


you! ” and the voice had seemed loud and gruff. 
Who could it be? and what could it mean? 

Muschy flew out of the place after the in¬ 
truder. What a good little dog! They were 
more inclined than ever to give him a dinner. 
They stole softly to the hedge, and peeped 
cautiously down into the lane; but nothing 
frightful was to be seen there—nothing but 
their good fellow-lodger Mr. Hernshaw, who 
was walking quietly below, with Muschy trot¬ 
ting on before him. 

“Oh, Mr. Hernshaw!” they exclaimed, 
“ there has been such a horrid man here; and 
he peeped through the window and said, ‘ I see 
you! ’ ” 

“ So Muschy has told me,” said he, looking 
very good-natured; with that he walked on. 

They neither of them knew exactly how 
Muschy could have told him, but they did not 
ask any questions, and the dog seemed to them 
now worthy of the best of dinners. 



THE DOG MUSCHY 


109 


By this time their terror was all gone, and 
they returned to the summer-house to re-ar¬ 
range their dinner. Muschy was nowhere to 

be found, and as Mr. Hernshaw had not re- 

\ 

turned to the house, they concluded that the 
dog was with him. Neither he nor his master 
came back by tea-time; and it did not seem as 
if they would come back before dark. The 
children determined, however, not to eat their 
dinner without Muschy, so before going to bed 
they turned a large wash-tub over their feast, 
and left all, as they thought, quite safe. 

The next day, when they got up, they found 
that it was washing-day at the cottage; and 
what was their surprise, on going to the sum¬ 
mer-house, to find the tub carried away, all 
their dinner demolished, the gooseberries and 
currants smashed, the apples rolled away, the 
cakes gnawed and dirty, and the bones van¬ 
ished—every one! Could the man who had 
looked in at the window have been there again? 



110 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

While they were thus wondering, who 
should come bounding in but Muschy, wag¬ 
ging his tail, and looking in such a good humor 
that no one could have doubted about his smil¬ 
ing. He frisked round the summer-house, 
caught up an apple between his paws and 
rolled it along the floor; snapped at a cake, 
which he gobbled up in a minute, then jumped 
up and snuffed here and there about the floor. 

“ Muschy has been here and has had his din¬ 
ner without us!” exclaimed Meggy. “ Now 
haven’t you, Muschy? ” 

Muschy barked, and capered about, and 
smiled; and that was all the answer he gave. 

He had made an end of their dinner as well 
as his own, but they quite forgave him; and if 
he would only have stayed with them that 
morning, they would gladly have given him a 
share of their breakfast; but he was off with 
his master into the pleasant fir woods. 


CHAPTER XVI 


MEGGY AT HOME AGAIN 

Meggy was six weeks at the cottage in the 
country. And now the time was come for her 
and Ellen to return to London. 

She had seen much that was new to her,—the 
hay carried, the sheep shorn, and the corn cut 
and piled up into shocks in the field; besides 
she had enjoyed herself very much with little 
Louisa. But she was now quite willing to go 
back to her own dear home, where, although 
she could not have Herbert every day, she at 
least should see him every Sunday. And was 
not that a great happiness? 

The day after Meggy’s return, Herbert was 
allowed to come from school, although it was 
not Sunday, to see her. Nothing could be a 
greater happiness than their meeting. They 

111 


112 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


kissed each other over and over again; they 
walked hand in hand in the garden; they 
talked of all that had happened since they 
parted. Meggy had to relate all her adven¬ 
tures and pleasures in the country, and Her¬ 
bert had to tell of various interesting events 
which had happened to him. 

Among other things, his brother Alfred 
had taken him twice to London. They had 
gone in an omnibus, and this he had found very 
amusing. The first time they went, Alfred 
took him to see Gog 1 and Magog in Guildhall, 
and all through St. Paul’s Cathedral. 

Herbert thought Gog and Magog very 
wonderful. There was a gentleman in Guild¬ 
hall, quite a stranger to the boys, who came up 
and began talking to them. He seemed a very 

1 Fanciful figures of Gog and Magog, sometimes called the 
Guardians of London, have been connected with English his¬ 
tory since the reign of Henry V. The colossal wooden figures 
now in Guildhall were carved by Saunders in 1708 to take the 
place of those made of wicker-work which were burned in 
London’s Great Fire. 


MEGGY AT HOME AGAIN 


113 


merry man, for he laughed a great deal, and 
would insist upon it that Gog and Magog were 
real giants, and that in the daytime they pre¬ 
tended to be wood and paint, and stood there 
with their big faces staring out stupidly at 
everything. This was all make-believe, he 
said, for they could hear and see just as well 
as we could; and then he made a great start 
and said, “ Oh, did you not see the eyes of one 
of them move? ” 

It was plain enough that he was joking all 
the time. One giant, he said, was very deaf, 
and the other near-sighted,—and no wonder, 
for they were very old; he believed many hun¬ 
dred years old, and the only wonder was that 
they had lived so long. 

He said that at night, as soon as Gog and 
Magog heard St. Paul’s clock strike twelve, 
and all London was gone to sleep, they two 
came down, and the one that could hear told 
the one that was deaf everything that people 


114 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

had been saying in the day; and the one that 
had good eyes told the near-sighted one all that 
he had seen, and so they were very useful and 
entertaining to each other. 

Herbert was delighted to tell all this about 
Gog and Magog to Meggy. He did not be¬ 
lieve a word of it himself, but thought it was 
very amusing; and while the gentleman was 
telling it to him and Alfred, Herbert had felt 
as if it were true, and wished he could go at 
night and see the two old giants walking up 
and down! 

Then Herbert described St. Paul’s Cathe¬ 
dral with its huge organ, its many monuments, 
and the echoing sound produced by the clos¬ 
ing of a door, and which to him seemed like the 
roaring of a lion. Then there was the going 
up and up and up to the Whispering Gallery, 
and the going higher and higher still to the 
outside gallery, where there was such a wind 
as almost lifted them off their feet, and from 


MEGGY AT HOME AGAIN 115 

which they had such a grand view over all 
London. 

That was one day’s excursion. Another 
day Alfred took him to the Pantheon, and 
showed him all the beautiful things there. 
And now Herbert described the pyramids of 
dolls that he saw, the dolls’ houses and palaces, 
the dolls in beautiful cradles, and some dolls 
as big as real babies, and some like the Queen 
and Prince Albert and all their children. It 
was wonderful, Herbert said, and he wished 
Meggy could have seen them. And there were 
all kinds of toys, and guns and whips, and 
little carriages and horses, and everything! 
And such caps and bonnets, and books, and 
baskets, and flowers, and vases, and china! 
When you went upstairs and walked round a 
gallery, you saw more things and more things, 
and when you looked down, you saw all the 
beautiful things that you had seen before, and 
it made quite a grand picture. 


116 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

Then they went to a place where nothing but 
confectionery was sold; and Alfred said now 
Herbert should have something good—what 
would he like? Herbert looked all round; 
everything seemed so nice, he did not know 
what he should choose, and then Alfred said he 
should have some buns and an ice! Herbert 
had never eaten an ice before, and it was so 
good! He only wished Meggy could taste it. 
He did wonder whether he could not save her a 
bit, but he knew that ice all melts away, and so 
he ate it and his buns. Alfred was very good- 
tempered, and seemed to think nothing any 
trouble, and therefore Herbert asked him ques¬ 
tions about everything, and Alfred always 
answered him, and never once said, “ Don’t 
bother me so! ” nor anything of that sort. 

Last of all, they went into a beautiful con¬ 
servatory, where there was a fountain playing, 
and lovely flowers in bloom, and beautiful 
birds,—parrots, macaws, and love-birds,—all 


MEGGY AT HOME AGAIN 


117 


in cages or on poles; and the fountain splashed, 
and the birds sang and chattered, and the 
flowers sent forth a delicious fragrance; and 
Herbert thought it was the most charming 
place in all London. 

This was what he had to tell Meggy of the 
greatest pleasures which he had enjoyed dur¬ 
ing her absence; and as he described them to 
her, they settled down into her mind as if she 
too had seen them. 

Besides talking, Herbert and Meggy had a 
great deal of work to do. They again set their 
house in order, for it, of necessity, began to 
look neglected after having been uninhabited 
for so many weeks. They pulled up the weeds 
also from their gardens, and filled their joint 
kitchen-garden with lettuces and celery. They 
did in a short time a great deal of work; and 
all the while Herbert had to tell Meggy about 
his school-life—how very happy he was, and 
that he did not find his lessons at all hard, and 


118 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

that he liked his school-fellows, particularly 
Walter and Edwin, very much. 

While Meggy was away, Walter had been 

once at home with Herbert, and they two had 

lived in the playhouse, and had made a feast 

of lettuces and bread and butter, which his 

mother had given them, and there never was 

anything so good as those lettuces! They 

gathered them quite fresh in the garden, 

washed them at the garden-tubs, and then had 

eaten them in their little house with bread and 

butter and salt. His father also gave them 

some apples and grapes. Had they not had a 

* 

feast? They went with his father to gather the 
apples and to cut the grapes, and they laid 
them on vine-leaves for dishes, and sat round 
the little table, and were very happy. 

Herbert showed Walter the holes where the 
mason-bees had laid their eggs, and the under¬ 
ground regions inhabited by the ants; and 
Walter had said many times since then, that he 


MEGGY AT HOME AGAIN 


119 


would rather go home with Herbert than any¬ 
where else in the world! 

Meggy, in return, told her brother about her 
sojourn in the country,—about her little com¬ 
panion Louisa, the queer little fidgety dog 
Muschy, and the three cats, Beauty, Granny, 
and Jack. She described the beautiful pigeons 
that used to fly down to be fed and then go 
to the stone trough and drink so prettily. As 
Meggy talked, Herbert almost wished he had 
been with her. 

That was a happy day; and what could 
equal the joy of the little ones, when their sis¬ 
ter Mary said that, if their parents would con¬ 
sent, she would take them both the next day to 
the Zoological Gardens! Then Herbert could 
not only stay at home all night, but spend a 
second happy day with his little sister. 

Alfred volunteered to walk down to the 
school to explain Herbert’s absence, and the 
whole thing was at once decided upon. 


CHAPTER XVII 

WHERE WAS THE SUN-BEAR? 

The next morning, which was as fine as 
anybody could wish, they set off. Martha, one 
of the maids, went with them. She had never 
been to the Zoological Gardens, so Herbert 
had a great deal to do before they arrived at 
the place, in explaining to her what there was 
to see. He told her, that long and long be¬ 
fore she got to the Gardens—miles off, almost 
—she would hear the wild beasts roaring. (He 
was a very little boy when he was there before, 
and he imagined all this.) 

As they walked through Regent’s Park, he 
was in a great state of excitement, listening for 
the roar of the lion; and every now and then 
stopped, and was sure it must be heard. 

Meggy had never been there any more than 

120 


WHERE WAS THE SEN-BEAR? 121 

Martha, and of course she, too, was filled with 
the most intense expectation. 

At last they were within sight of the Gar¬ 
dens, and then, all at once, the sound so long 
listened for was heard. The lion did roar, and 
immediately afterwards something yelled—it 
must have been the hyena; and then a wild 
ass sent forth a discordant, trumpeting cry; 
and the lion roared again, and Herbert was 
delighted beyond measure. 

Meggy clung to her sister in terror, and 
Herbert laughed and put his arm round her, 
and stood like a champion, and said, in his 
fondest voice, “ Don’t be afraid, Meggy. No 
wild beast can get loose; and they are only 
glad that we are come—that’s all.” 

To Herbert’s great joy, Martha declared 
that though they had not heard it “ miles off,” 
yet that it was much grander than she ex¬ 
pected, and that the lion must be a terrible 
beast to have such a voice. 



122 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

Though Herbert had been such a little boy 
when he was there before, yet he seemed to re¬ 
member so much about the Gardens, that his 
sister Mary said he should guide them. He 
should take them just where he liked. This 
made him very happy. 

One thing, however, quite troubled him. 
His sister Mary had told him about the great 
sun-bear which she had seen when she was there 
last; about its pale sea-green eyes; and how 
big, and silly, and melancholy it looked. Her¬ 
bert had never seen a sun-bear, he had not even 
read about it; but the idea of it as his sister 
described it—in its shaggy coat, which looked 
like a rough blanket, the color of a London 
fog, and its pale sea-green eyes—made a great 
impression upon his mind. He was, therefore, 
most anxious to see the sun-bear. His sister 
said she would show it to him; but when they 
reached the den where the great sun-bear had 
been when she saw it, the sun-bear was no 


WHERE WAS THE SUN-BEAR? 123 


longer there—another animal, quite different, 
was living in the den. 

Herbert grew anxious. Was the sun-bear 
ill or dead, or had it merely changed its lodg¬ 
ings? His sister encouraged him with the 
hope that they might yet see it. They went 
on: they saw the lion that had roared so 
grandly, and the tigers and all their relations, 
the leopards, and panthers, and cougars, and 
cat-a-mountains; they saw the brown bears, and 
fed them with buns, and saw them climb up 
the poles, and then come down again. All this 
was very entertaining; but still they did not 
see the sun-bear! 

They found great amusement among the 
monkeys,—some of whom cracked nuts, others 
swung and leaped about, and played all sorts 
of pranks; but most of all were they delighted 
with a grave old mother-monkey tending her 
little child. She was so odd, and looked so 
serious! After she had tossed her baby about, 



124 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


and hugged and cuffed it, she made it cling to 
her neck with its funny little black arms, and 
began capering and frisking, and flinging her¬ 
self from one side of the cage to the other. 
And all the time the baby-monkey clung to her 
neck, and looked as if it were glued to her. 

They saw the eagles, and other noble birds, 
standing with grave and intelligent counte¬ 
nances on their perches. They saw the par¬ 
rots, and heard their loud chattering till they 
were almost deafened by it. 

Herbert and Meggy still looked in vain for 
the sun-bear; it was not near the elephants, 
or the wild asses, or the giraffes. They rode 
on one elephant’s back, and threw buns into 
the big open mouth of another; they saw the 
great hippopotamus go down to the water; 
and they felt as if they never should be tired 
of looking at the beautiful camelopards, or 
giraffes, with their graceful movements and 
their mild affectionate eyes. 


WHERE WAS THE SUN-BEAR? 125 

There were some odd-looking, Syrian goats, 
with long flapping ears, which Herbert was 
delighted to recognize from plates of them 
which he had seen in Calmet’s “ Dictionary of 
the Bible.” Yes, it was all delightful, if they 
could only have found the sun-bear. 

Herbert ran hither and thither; peeped into 
the most unlikely as well as likely places; but 
nowhere did he see the pale sea-green eyes 
and the shaggy fog-colored coat of the sun- 
bear. He began to think that, after all, he 
should not see it. They came back to the very 
point where they had entered; they made many 
inquiries, but nobody could assist them. Some 
said they had seen it that very day, others that 
they had not; they only wished they had! 

Some said it was somewhere, others that it 
was nowhere, and that there never had been a 
sun-bear in the Gardens. But Mary knew bet¬ 
ter than that, for she had seen it herself. They 
turned down all sorts of winding walks, and 


126 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


came to the seal, that to their great joy lay 
basking beside the water; and to the beavers, 
that came out as if to be looked at. They 
could see everything, excepting the sun-bear! 

It was now time to go home. They stood 
beside the iron gate of exit, which once passed 
admits of no return. What were they to do? 
Herbert was almost ready to cry; he said he 
cared for nothing but the sun-bear—neither 
lions, nor tigers, nor anything—and it was 
such a shame not to have seen it! The only 
consolation he could find was in his sister’s 
words—that some day or other they should 
come again, and then, if the sun-bear were in 
the Gardens, they would find him. 




CHAPTER XVIII 


A VERY SHORT CHAPTER WHICH, PIOWEYER, 
CONTAINS SOMETHING! 

Everybody remarked that Herbert had a 
bad cough, and it seemed worse even on the 
second day than the first. They said he must 
have something for his cough, and they won¬ 
dered how he could have caught it, because the 
weather was so dry and pleasant. 

A day or two afterwards news came from 
school that Herbert had the whooping-cough; 
and by this time Meggy also had begun cough¬ 
ing, as she had taken it from her brother. This 
was a strange and unlooked-for event, and 
Meggy, though feeling pretty well herself, was 
full of sorrow and compassion for Herbert; 
she feared that he would be ill. 

Herbert, on his part, was concerned only 

127 


128 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


about his sister, who he knew was not nearly so 
strong as he was. 

Everything, however, has its consolation; 
and the best consolation to the children was, 
that the cough was not very bad, and that as 
they both had it, they could be always together. 


CHAPTER XIX 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 

One Sunday it was excessively hot; so hot 
that the children did not know what to do. 
The heat and their coughs together made them 
yery fretful. If they sat in the house, they 
were hot; if they went out, they were almost 
melted. In the evening they sat at tea with 
the windows open, flowers on the table, and 
the butter almost like oil though the butter¬ 
dish was standing in water. Nobody ate or 
drank much; indeed, to drink hot tea was out 
of the question. 

Herbert was almost cross, and so was 
Meggy. They wished they had ice to put in 
their tea. They said that the Chinese were 
much wiser than the English, because they 

drank their tea cold; and that they did not be- 

129 


130 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

lieve anybody in all the world was as hot as 
they had been all day. 

Their father said, what would they think if 
they were little Harry Twiggs? 

They had never heard of little Harry 
Twiggs, and they asked who he was. Their 
father said that at five o’clock that very morn¬ 
ing, little Harry Twiggs went out with a 
wooden clapper in his hand to frighten away 
the birds from Farmer Broadbent’s corn. 
This corn grew in a thirty-acre field—a mon¬ 
strous field; the whole parish called it the “ big 
field.” It was full of corn, beautiful corn, 
just getting ripe; and the birds, great and 
small, came from far and near to peck it. 

Farmer Broadbent meant that that one field 
should pay the rent of his whole farm, so he 
was very particular about having the birds 
kept out. He hired little Harry Twiggs, who 
was one of the poorest boys in the parish, at 
threepence a day, to walk round and round 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 131 

the corn-field, and down the foot-road that 
went across it from end to end, to make a noise 
with his little wooden clapper, and to shout 
as loud as he could, and thus to frighten away 
the birds. 

For the last six days—from Monday till 
Saturday—little Harry had done so. He went 
at five o’clock in the morning, and came away 
at eight o’clock at night; and all day long he 
saw nobody, unless by chance any one went 
along the foot-road when he was on it, for 
otherwise he was so little, and the corn was so 
tall, that he could not have seen them. In all 
that long week he had seen only a beggar,— 
who was deaf and dumb, and so could not talk 
to him,—and the parish constable, of whom he 
was always afraid, because when he saw him he 
thought of the round-house, which was the 
parish prison. 

All round the field there were tall hedges 
full of wild roses and honeysuckles, and mead- 



132 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

ow-sweet, and pretty purple vetches, which 
made them very delightful, only that poor 
Harry soon grew tired of looking at them by 
himself. 

In the hedges there also grew, here and 
there, tall old oak-trees, which all day long 
cast pleasant shadows; and Harry used to 
think, that if he could but lie down under the 
shady trees it would be delightful. But he 
never dared to indulge himself; and all day 
long he went round and round, and up and 
down that great, wide corn-field, on which the 
sun shone without any shadow, unless from a 
passing cloud. 

Poor Harry often was so tired that he did 
not know what to do; and he was always glad 
when, by the height of the sun, he thought it 
was noon, and then he might sit down and eat 
his dinner,—his little dinner of bread and 
cheese and buttermilk. 

Sometimes he made a mistake, and ate it an 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 133 

hour too soon—he never took it an hour too 
late—and then the afternoon seemed so long 
that he thought it never would end. And he 
often was ready to cry because he was so hot 
and tired, and had nobody to speak to—not 
even a dog. 

Harry lived with his old grandmother. They 
lived by themselves in a little mud cottage, one 
story high, beside the common; and Harry 
used to play with all the neighbors’ children, 
for they were none of them too grand to play 
with a poor little lad like him. 

There was Dick Tattersall, the son of the 
blacksmith. He was Harry’s favorite playfel¬ 
low,—a stout lad, who would have made two 
of a little fellow like Harry Twiggs, though 
he was not quite half a year older. Then there 
were all Dick’s brothers and sisters—such a 
flock of them!—who always came trooping at 
his heels, because he was such a funny, good- 
natured fellow, and was always so kind to 




134 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

them. There was Peggy Ford, too, Widow 
Ford’s little daughter, who lived in the smallest 
house in the whole parish—smaller even than 
the Twiggs’, for the Fords, like them, were 
very poor. Peggy used to play with Dick 
Tattersall’s sisters, and that made her very 
friendly also with Harry and Dick. 

Poor little Harry often told his friends in 
the evening, when he got home and found them 
playing, and yet was himself too tired to play, 
how solitary and forlorn he felt in the “ big 
field ” all by himself from morning till night. 

One evening when Harry had been talking 
in this way, Dick said, as sure as he was alive, 
he would go and keep him company in the big 
field all next Sunday; and Peggy Ford said 
so would she, if Nancy Tattersall would; and 
Nancy said she would, if little Joshua might 
go,—and everybody said little Joshua might. 
So it was agreed and settled, and Harry 
wished it was Sunday. 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 


135 


The days between passed slowly, but at last 
Sunday morning came. Up got little Harry 
as usual, put on his clean shirt (stockings he 
had none) and his good pair of trousers—his 
common ones were very old indeed—and his 
Sunday jacket, which was but an old one after 
all; and as soon as he had swallowed his break¬ 
fast, off he set with his dinner in an oldish, 
gray-looking basket. 

It was a capital dinner that he had to-day: a 
little bit of cold mutton, a huge piece of 
bread, some treacle in an old teacup with a tea¬ 
pot lid that fitted it, and which with bread was 
to be the grand second course. Besides this, 
he had a little can of buttermilk. It was a 
particularly good dinner, and Harry meant to 
divide it among his friends if it were better 
than what they brought. 

He hoped as he passed the blacksmith’s to 
see some of the family about, perhaps even 
Dick himself. But no, it was shut up, shop 


136 


THE CHILDREN'S TEAR 


and all; for they were resting an hour or two 
later, as it was Sunday morning. 

He then turned down the lane toward the 
little house where Widow Ford lived; but the 
door was shut, and the white cotton curtain 
drawn in the window, and no signs of life were 
visible about the place, excepting the old, 
grayish tortoise-shell cat, which had been shut 
out all night. As soon as the cat saw Harry, 
she heaved up her back and tail, and rubbed in 
a sidling way against the door-post, and mewed 
with a long whining mew. 

“ Poor pussy!” said Harry, and stroked 
her, and wished he could only leave a message 
with her. But it was no use wishing that, so 
he stroked her again, and called her “ poor 
pussy ” in rather a louder voice, that they 
might hear him if they were awake,—for he 
knew where their bed stood. But they must 
have been fast asleep, for though he waited five 
minutes and talked a great deal to the cat, they 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 137 

never heard him; and as the curtain did not 
move, he thought it would be of no use to stay 
any longer, so he went on slowly, looking back 
every now and then to see if anybody by chance 
peeped out. But nobody did. 

There was nothing then to be done but to 
trudge off to the field as fast as he could, for 
he now heard the church clock strike a quarter 
to six, and he was afraid Farmer Broadbent 
might take a walk into the field, as he often did 
before breakfast, and not find him there. 

Harry was afraid of Farmer Broadbent, 
partly because he was such a large man, and 
had such a large voice, and walked with such 
a large stick. So whenever he saw the farmer 
in the field, he contrived to be a good way off, 
always clapping industriously and shouting to 
the birds. The farmer, who was very fat, and 
not at all nimble, could not follow very quickly, 
and thus Harry contrived to keep quite out of 
his way. 


138 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

The first thing Harry did when he got into 
the field was to walk all round it, clapping as 
he went, though he never once thought about 
the birds, because he was thinking of the party 
he was going to have, and he wanted now to 
find out which was the pleasantest place in all 
the field. To be sure, he had fixed that in his 
mind some days ago, even before he knew that 
his friends would come to visit him; but he now 
wanted to be quite sure about it. The nicest 
place in all the field was that on which he had 
before decided, and he now felt sure that it 
was the sweetest spot in all the parish. 

It was in an old overgrown marl-pit which 
separated this field from the next, and where 
there was no regular fence, but a great many 
oak and ash trees, and plenty of hazel-bushes 
which formed a close and cool thicket, where 
at any time of the day it was very shady. 

There were places something like regular 
seats in the broken sides of the hollow, so he 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 


139 


trampled down the long grass and tall plants, 
and broke off hazel boughs, or twisted them in 
one with another, till he formed a little open 
cove in the bushes, just like a little parlor in a 
wood, or a sweet little nest, just big enough to 
hold five or six children. He gathered beauti¬ 
ful green moss, which was now wet with dew, 
and laid it in the sun to dry, and this he meant 
for cushions for the seats. 

There never was a prettier little spot than 
that. It was a regular bower; and though it 
was midsummer, the blackbirds and thrushes 
sang with all their might, and so did the larks 
up in the clear bright sunshine. 

“ It’s a regular Sunday morning,” said 
Harry joyfully to himself; “ everything, dumb 
creatures as well as Christians, know when it 
is Sunday morning! ” 

His heart was full of joy. He had but one 
fear,—lest the children should come before he 
was ready for them. 


140 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


But he need not have feared that. He was 
ready hours before they came. The church 
bells began ringing for morning service. 
Harry never thought they would be so late— 
never! He had expected they would come by 
eight o’clock, by nine at farthest; and now it 
wanted only a quarter to eleven. 

All at once a thought came into his mind. 
Suppose they did not come at all! It was a 
miserable thought. He climbed upon a low 
bough of an oak, and looked out over the whole 
extent of the “ big field.” The sun shone 
burning hot; there was not a single shadow 
upon the whole extent of yellow corn. It quite 
dazzled his eyes. 

He could see the heads and shoulders of 
people who were walking along the footpath 
on their way to church—for the church lay half 
a mile from the village, and those who liked 
the fields best would go that way. He saw 
them moving onward at little intervals above 



LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 141 

the level of the yellow corn; they were in their 
Sunday best, and seemed to be very happy! 

He jumped down from the tree, and ran to 
the end of the footpath; for some of these peo¬ 
ple must have passed Dick Tattersall’s, and 
could tell him if he seemed to be coming. At 
the end of the road he met old Nelly Wardle, 
and her daughter Jenny; they lived next door 
to the blacksmith’s. 

“ Did you see anything of Dick Tattersall? ” 
asked Harry of them. 

“ Oh yes,” old Nelly said; “ Dick was sitting 
among the children, as usual, on the shady side 
of the house, making dandelion chains for 
them, poor things! ” 

“ Then he does not mean to come!” said 
Harry to himself, with a great pang at his 
heart. He did not speak a word aloud, but 
walked on without looking anybody in the 
face, lest they should see that he was crying. 

At the end of the footpath was a gate, which 


142 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


opened into a shady lane, down which Dick 
and his young party ought to have come. 
Harry climbed on the bottom bar, and as the 
gate was a tall one his chin just rested on the 
top bar; and there he stood, poor little boy, 
with great blinding tears in his eyes staring 
up the empty lane. 

The church bells had left off ringing, every¬ 
body was in church; not a soul was now com¬ 
ing from the village. Everything looked silent 
and solitary; and as Harry thought of all the 
long morning he had spent in getting things 
ready and in waiting, and all the long rest of 
the day that he should now have to spend by 
himself in disappointment, he felt quite miser¬ 
able and forsaken. 

He thought that Dick, and all the children 
who had promised to come and see him, were 
sitting on the shady side of the house, making 
dandelion chains, as happy as could be. They 
had forgotten him; they had forgotten their 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 


143 


promise; they cared for nothing but amusing 
themselves! 

He shut his eyes to keep back the tears for 
a while, and then, fairly overcome, slipped 
down from the gate, threw himself on the 
grass, and cried bitterly. It was quite enough 
to make even an older person cry. 

If he had not been crying, and if he had not 
been so miserable, and if he had only stayed a 
little longer looking over the gate, he would 
soon have seen a very pleasant sight! 

He would have seen Dick Tattersall carry¬ 
ing the sturdy little Joshua on his back; and 
Nancy with a sheaf of timothy-grass in one 
hand, on every bent of which were at least 
four-and-twenty wild strawberries like great 
coral beads—and in the other, a little basket 
as full as ever it would hold, and covered with 
a cloth; and Peggy Ford, with something in 
her hand that looked very like a big basin tied 
up in a buff handkerchief. And down the lane 



144 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


they were trudging as fast as they could, chat¬ 
tering as they came along. 

Poor Harry, who lay crying in the grass, 
heard something just before they reached the 
gate which made him jump up at once and 
rush forward. He heard their voices—and 
there they were, all four of them! 

They saw that he had been crying, and he 
did not pretend to deny it, for he said he 
thought that they would not come; he thought 
they would stay at home and make dandelion 
chains instead. 

“Not come!” Dick exclaimed; “why, I’ve 
been out ever so early this very morning to get 
strawberries out of Smith’s spinny! And we 
should have been here two hours earlier, only 
Mrs. Ford’s cat was lost, and we had to find 
her. She had been shut out all night, and Mrs. 
Ford was quite miserable till she was found, 
so we all went to hunt her.” 

Then Peggy had such a great deal to tell 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 


145 


about their trouble on her account; and Harry 
had to tell how he had seen the cat mewing at 
the door, and little Joshua had to tell that he 
it was who saw her first, and nobody would 
believe it was she;—and she was in Martin’s 
old pig-sty, and nobody could tell how she got 
there. 

Then Nancy wanted Harry to look at the 

% 

strawberries all strung on the tall timothy- 
grass ; and then they had to tell that they were 
doing this, and not making dandelion chains, 
when Mrs. Wardle saw them. 

Harry gave little Joshua the clapper, and 
he strutted about, clapping with all his might; 
the others ran on down to the little parlor 
among the hazel-bushes, and there they ex¬ 
amined what they all had for dinner. Nancy 
Tattersall opened her basket, and there was 
such a lot of cold beans and bacon, and bread; 
and a lustre-mug, that looked like silver, to 
drink out of; and a great three-cornered piece 


146 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

of cold batter pudding, at the bottom of which 
was a layer of currants an inch thick. And in 
Peggy Ford’s basin there was a cold rice pud¬ 
ding which her mother had baked the night 
before; and all the strawberries besides! Now, 
was it not a famous dinner? They thought it 
as good as a Lord Mayor’s feast. 

The visitors said that Harry had made a 
beautiful little parlor for them, and they ad¬ 
mired the seats and the moss-cushions, and 
everything. Harry felt very happy, and so 
did they all; and as they were all very hungry, 
too, they agreed to eat Peggy Ford’s rice pud¬ 
ding now, by way of luncheon. Little Joshua 
did nothing all the morning but strut about, 
clapping and shouting; and not a single bird 
came near the corn. 

Of course, they supposed that old Farmer 
Broadbent was gone to church; but instead of 
that he was walking down to his big corn-field, 
and reached the other side of the old marl-pit 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 


147 


just as they had finished eating the cold pud¬ 
ding. They did not see him, because he stood 
behind the hazel-bushes, but he saw them; and 
presently, crash! he came through the hedge 
just below. 

There he stood before them, his face all red 
with heat, his hat in one hand, and his stick 
and a great red pocket-handkerchief with 
which he was going to wipe his face, in the 
other. He was dressed in his Sunday clothes; 
his brown coat, yellow and black and white 
striped waistcoat, which was all unbuttoned, 
and drab breeches, and gray stockings—for to¬ 
day he was without his gaiters because it was 
so hot. 

Harry was quite frightened, for the farmer’s 
face looked very red, and when he lifted up his 
red pocket-handkerchief to wipe his face, he 
lifted also his great stick, because, as we said, 
he held them both in the same hand. 

“ You children seem to be very merry 


148 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

thear!” said he; “you’ve gotten a famous 
feast, and a nice shady corner to eat it in! But 
you would na be worser for a nice bottle o’ my 
best fizzing root-beer; so if one on you will go 
wi’ me, I’ll gie you one! ” 

“ Thank you, sir! ” said Dick, jumping up 
at once, ready to go with him. 

“ Thank ye, mester! ” said Harry, surprised, 
and looking as pleased as Punch. 

“ And th’ little one does a’ th’ work to-day, 
I reckon!” said the farmer, smiling at little 
Joshua, who was making noise enough to 
deafen anybody. 

Dick went with the farmer for the bottle of 
“ fizzing root-beer ” ; and heard him laugh¬ 
ing in the best kitchen, where Mrs. Broadbent, 
who had just come in from church, was sitting. 
The farmer told her all about “ a parcel o’ 
children that were having a feast wi’ little 
Harry Twiggs, all among the hazzle-bushes,” 
and how he had promised them a bottle of 



Crash! he came through the hedge .—Page U 7. 


























LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 149 

“ fizzing beer.” Then Mrs. Broadbent was 
heard laughing, too, and she said that one of 
“ those gooseberry pies ” would not come in 
amiss among them; and then out she came 
with a great big gooseberry pie, baked in a 
brown dish, with all sorts of zigzags on the 
crust, and a bottle in her hand. Mr. Broadbent 
came after her, and both of them were still 
laughing; and he said, and so did she, that they 
hoped the pie would be to the children’s liking, 
and the root-beer, too,—but they must remem¬ 
ber not to break either bottle or dish! 

Away went Dick as fast as he could with the 
great big pie in the brown dish and the bottle 
of fizzing beer. Now, only think what a sur¬ 
prise to everybody! Nancy, when she saw the 
pie, exclaimed, “ My goodness! ” and Peggy, 
“ O my! ” Little Joshua’s eyes opened twice 
as wide as common, and he clapped louder than 
ever; while Harry capered about like a wild 
Indian, singing with all his might: 


150 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


“ 0 my! 

Here’s a gooseberry pie 
With a zigzag crust, for dinner.” 

When they had set out their dinner, they 
sat down to it. And—would anybody believe 
it?—there they sat eating their dinner amongst 
those pleasant shady “ hazzle-bushes,” as old 
Farmer Broadbent called them, from half-past 
twelve o’clock till a quarter to three, when the 
bells began ringing again for afternoon service! 

There was never such a dinner as that! and 
many times while it lasted little Joshua would 
strut about, clapping as loud as he could, so 
that the birds heard him all over the big field; 
and so did Farmer Broadbent, as he sat under 
the sycamore-tree before his kitchen door, 
smoking a pipe after dinner. 

About an hour after this, up rose the farmer 
from the bench under the tree where he had 
been having a comfortable nap after his pipe, 
and smiled to himself as he thought of the chil¬ 
dren in the corn-field. 



LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 151 

And what did he do then? Why, without 
saying a word to anybody, he walked down to 
see what they were after, saying all the time 
to himself, what a foolish old fellow he was to 
find so much amusement in “ a parcel of poor 
children.” And though he knew that it was 
not right to be a listener, yet he went and stood 
close behind the hazel-bushes again, just on 
purpose to hear what they were talking about; 
and if the children had not been so much taken 
up with their own talk, they must have heard 
him laughing to himself. 

They had drunk all the “ fizzing root-beer,” 
every drop of it; and now Dick Tattersall was 
lying on his back, all among the grass and 
flowers before the little wood-parlor door, 
kicking up his legs, and thumping down his 
great heels again in a very ecstasy of delight, 
and all the time his tongue was rattling away 
like a mill-clapper. The afternoon service at 
the church was just over, and Dick was pre- 


152 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


tending that he could see all the folks come 
out, and was talking for them: now yery sol¬ 
emnly, for the clergyman; now very pom¬ 
pously, for the schoolmaster; and now very 
savagely, for the constable, who was so hard 
and pitiless to the poor, and whom everybody 
disliked so much. 

How the children laughed! and Dick kicked 
up his legs and banged them down again, just 
as if it were a great steam-engine at work. 
The farmer behind the bushes laughed quite as 
much as they did; and then he walked away, 
thinking how pleased he was that poor little 
Harry Twiggs had such a merry company. 

“ And there they are at this moment,” said 
Herbert and Meggy’s father; “ and are you 
not as much pleased as the farmer that they 
have had a merry day of it, and such a good 
dinner? ” 

“ What a long day to-morrow will seem 


LITTLE HARRY TWIGGS 


153 


to poor little Harry all by himself!” said 
Meggy. 

“Not at all so!” returned the father. 
“ Harry will do nothing all day but think of 
the fun he had the day before; one day like 
that will last him a week. Besides, they 
promised to come again next Sunday. 

“ The farmer heard them, and told his wife, 
scarcely an hour ago, as they were sitting in 
the arbor at tea; and she said in a minute 
that she would take care that they should have 
another gooseberry pie, and another bottle 
of fizzing root-beer, to make merry with. 
And Mrs. Broadbent is a woman that always 
keeps her word; only she made her husband 
promise that he would say nothing to the chil¬ 
dren about it beforehand.” 

Meggy and Herbert were delighted and 
clapped their hands for joy. They forgot all 
about the excessive heat which had made them 
so uncomfortable before. 


CHAPTER XX 


OFF TO HASTINGS 

The children’s coughs soon began to mend, 
and in a few weeks a great and most unex¬ 
pected happiness resulted for the children. 
They were both to go to Hastings for one 
whole month, with their mother and their sister 
Mary, and Martha the maid. Never had they 
heard such good tidings before. 

“ I am glad that we had the whooping- 
cough,” said Meggy. 

“ Good often comes out of evil,” said Her¬ 
bert, who had a little more experience of life 
than his sister. 

Meggy heard her mother and sister say that 
Hastings was a very pleasant place, and by 
the seaside. All their friends said the same, 
and this general opinion filled her with the 

154 


OFF TO HASTINGS 


155 


most charming idea of the place. Some of the 
boys from the school, who came up to see Her¬ 
bert, had been at Hastings with their mothers, 
and they told him the same. It is impossible, 
therefore, to say with what delight the chil¬ 
dren thought of going there. 

They were to set off on Tuesday; and on 
Monday what a pleasure it was to see all their 
things piled on the nursery table, ready to be 
packed! 

The happy morning came, as all happy 
mornings are sure to come; and yet people 
are often as impatient about them as if there 
were some doubt on the subject! The morn¬ 
ing came: the trunks and portmanteaus and 
carpet-bags were brought down into the hall. 
Their father gathered a basket full of beauti¬ 
ful peaches and purple grapes for them, and 
there was another basket of biscuits and sand¬ 
wiches. There was no longer any question 
about their going. Martha brought down her 


156 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


little green wooden box, and it stood among 
the other luggage. 

What a charming thing it was to be setting 
off on a journey! Meggy thought it pleas¬ 
anter even, this time, than when she set off 
with Ellen into the country. The children 
were impatient; they said they wondered how 
it was that time seemed to go so slowly when 
they were waiting for any pleasure, but so 
fast when they were enjoying it. It seemed 
to them as if it would never be ten o’clock, at 
which time the carriage was to come to take 
them to the railroad station. Their mother 
sat reading; so did their sister; their father 
was writing; the hands of the clock seemed 
absolutely not to move. 

The children seated themselves on a port¬ 
manteau in the hall, jumping up every minute 
to see if the carriage were not coming. Now, 
they guessed what sort of horse they would 
have—whether a white one, or a black one, or a 


OFF TO HASTINGS 157 

bay; and then they watched the omnibuses 
drive up and down, and the carts and car¬ 
riages ; and guessed whether, after having shut 
their eyes for half a minute, they should see a 
man or a dog first; if they happened to guess 
right, they were very much pleased. 

At last, to their great joy, the carriage was 
at the gate, and the man was fixing on the 
trunks and the carpet-bags. Herbert carried 
out one carpet-bag himself, and then the basket 
of fruit was given to him, which he was to take 
care of through the journey. 

And now everybody was seated, and off they 
drove. Really and truly the time was come 
when the journey to Hastings had begun. 


CHAPTER XXI 


TRAVELLING AND ARRIVAL 

Herbert enjoyed all the bustle at the rail¬ 
way station quite as much as Meggy had done 
a few weeks before. 

And now, what a happiness it was to be 
sitting in a nice snug railway carriage, look¬ 
ing out at the window and talking together 
of all the new and wonderful things that they 
saw! They were very much amused with the 
sea of chimneys and housetops through which, 
when they first set out, they seemed to be float¬ 
ing. Then they came to market-gardens where 
there were immense beds of rhubarb, now look¬ 
ing withered and desolate, but which in spring 
had produced such thousands and thousands of 
stalks of rhubarb, and out of which such thou¬ 
sands of pies and puddings had been made. 

158 


TRAVELLING AND ARRIVAL 


159 


Their mother told them to think of the hun¬ 
dreds of little children, many of them very 
poor children, who had rejoiced over the pud¬ 
dings and pies made from this very rhubarb, 

\ 

and which had been to them like the most de¬ 
licious luxury. 

And then, just as had been the case with the 
Southampton Railway, on which Meggy had 
travelled, they came presently to charming 
country-houses, with their lawns and flower- 
gardens, and pleasant shrubberies, and saw 
ladies and little children walking in them; then 
to some grand mansion standing on a green 
slope, in a wooded park; and then to little 
towns where the train stopped and some pas¬ 
sengers got out, and fresh ones got in—and 
then the steam screamed, and off went the train 
again. 

All this was charming; hut nothing inter¬ 
ested Herbert like the electric telegraph, of 
which he now heard for the first time. It was 



160 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


wonderful to him; it interested him beyond 
words; he never was tired of talking about it, 
and he kept his eyes fixed on those marvellous 
wires, and could think of nothing else. 

Presently they came to a tunnel; this was the 
first tunnel they had been through since they 
had travelled two years before on a railroad in 
Belgium, when they returned with the family 
from Germany. The children had almost for¬ 
gotten that long, pleasant journey, but now 
this tunnel brought it back to their minds. 

Yes, there had been just such a tunnel in 
Belgium or Germany, and they had then been 
frightened at the long darkness, and the loud, 
roaring, rushing noise of the train as it had 
passed through. They were not at all fright¬ 
ened now, though they thought of dungeons 
and dark, deep caverns. It seemed, in fact, a 
pleasant variety; a little excitement which was 
not the less agreeable for having something of 
the dismal and terrific in it. 


TRAVELLING AND ARRIVAL 


161 


Now they were out of the tunnel,—out again 
into the pleasant daylight, with the sun shining 
over everything with a warm clear radiance. 

In a little while they came to where the line 
of the railroad cut through vast fields of hops; 
and here and there they saw groups of hop- 
pickers, men and women and children, strip¬ 
ping the clustered flowers from the vines. 

There was something very cheerful and pic¬ 
turesque in these groups of hop-pickers. Mary 
wished that she could stay and make a sketch 
of them; and Herbert and Meggy thought 
that they should very much like to go into a 
hop-garden, and help the poor little hop- 
pickers at their work. 

Hop-picking seemed a very pleasant em¬ 
ployment on this warm, bright autumn day. 
And so it is in fine season; and the poor peo¬ 
ple, who come with their whole families for the 
hop-picking, find it pleasant enough when the 
weather is favorable. When it is wet, they 



162 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

often suffer greatly, and then they find shelter 
in the kilns, or oast-houses, which are always 
heated for drying the hops. Here the poor 
hop-pickers dry their wet clothes, and make 
themselves as comfortable as they can under 
existing circumstances. 

The railroad at that time was not made to 
Hastings, and therefore people had to go part 
of the way by coach. Herbert was very sorry 
to be shut up inside the coach; he would have 
liked so much better to have gone on the out¬ 
side, and looked about him and seen the beau¬ 
tiful country, and caught the first sight of the 
sea. However, as he could not have his wish, 
he and Meggy contrived to see a good deal 
through the windows. At last they saw the 
sea, the bright sea, lying before them, and look¬ 
ing like a sun-lit mirror of polished steel. 

On the west stretched out a headland with 
a strongly defined outline, which was Beachy 
Head. On this side of it lay Pevensey Bay, 


TRAVELLING AND ARRIVAL 


163 


where William the Conqueror landed with all 
his Normans. And now, to the left, came into 
sight the old gray ruins of the Castle of Has¬ 
tings, on its green heights overlooking the sea. 
The children were delighted, for they knew 
enough of the early history of England to un¬ 
derstand how interesting this view was; and 
when their sister said that it was like looking 
at a grand historical picture, they understood 
that also. 

They were all charmed with this first view 
of Hastings. Presently they came down to 
the level of the sea, and drove along its mar¬ 
gin. The setting sun shone in warm crimson 
light upon the moving water. The tide coming 
in, and a fresh breeze, made the water still 
more animated. Herbert had never seen any¬ 
thing which had pleased and astonished him 
so much, and he kept exclaiming about it. 

“ Only look at those beautiful waves! Are 
they billows, mother dear? ” asked he. “ Look 


164 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

how they come dashing and tumbling up! Oh, 
how I love the sea! ” 

The children’s happiness was increased by 
their finding that the house in which they were 
to lodge was close to the sea. There was noth¬ 
ing but the pebbly beach between them and 
the water. They could stand at the window 
of their little room and look out on the sea; 
they could hear its roar as plainly as if they 

stood beside it. 

\ 

“It roars like a thousand dragons!” said 
Herbert, enthusiastically. “ I shut my eyes 
and fancy it is dragons. I love to hear it! I 
did not think that the sea was so grand! ” 


CHAPTER XXII 


SEA TREASURES 

The next morning the sun shone as bright as 
possible. The tide was again coming in, and as 
soon as breakfast was over the children went 
out with Martha. They went first to buy for 
each a little wooden spade, and an old-fash¬ 
ioned, odd-looking wooden basket, in which to 
collect seaweed and shells. 

When the tide went down they found treas¬ 
ures at every step: there were shells, and sea¬ 
weed, and starfish, and those little black, blad- 

♦ 

der-like weeds shaped like a hand-barrow, 
which the children at Hastings call <c money- 
purses.’’ Meggy, who was not nearly so strong 
as Herbert, found it very fatiguing to walk on 

the shingle; she and Martha therefore sat and 

165 


166 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

rested, while Herbert wandered about near 
them looking for treasures and wonders. 

Everything was wonderful both to him and 
Meggy; but nothing pleased him more than the 
sea itself. He used to go out with his sister 
Mary when the tide was either coming in or 
at its height, and walk close to its margin, or 
stand and watch it. There was, to his mind, 
indescribable beauty in one great wave rolling 
in after another, coming up with such power 
and grandeur, and then, just as it reached its 
extreme limit, heaving itself up and giving a 
plunge,—head forward, as it were,—and tum¬ 
bling like a cascade fringed with spray, head¬ 
long upon the shingle, and then rolling back 
again with a rattling shaling sound. 

One morning, though the weather was not 
good, Herbert and his sister Mary went out 
together. Several days had been wet and 
stormy. The wind had howled, the sea had 
roared, and the sea and the sky had both been 




SEA TREASURES 


167 


of a dull leaden color; it looked very wild and 
gloomy. 

The children had not been able to go out for 
two whole days; they had occupied themselves 
in arranging their shells and seaweeds in a 
little cupboard, on the shelves of which they 
displayed their treasures, and were never tired 
of looking at them. Here were assembled 
every kind of shell and every kind of seaweed 
which they had yet found. It was to them like 
a little marine museum. 

During these two stormy days Herbert 
counted all the sea-gulls which he saw, and 
they amounted to twenty-seven. He wrote a 
letter to his father; and, for his own pleasure, 
did several multiplication examples. 

On the third of these gloomy mornings, how¬ 
ever, his sister Mary proposed to him that, as 
it was not cold, and as it did not then rain, he 
should have his coat on, that they should take 
an umbrella, in case rain came on, and sally 


168 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

forth—they two—and walk up the shore, as 
far as the weather would permit them. 

This proposal was quite to Herbert’s taste. 
They wrapped themselves up, therefore, and 
off they set; Herbert, with his odd little 
wooden basket—which looked as if it had come 
down from the time of the Danes—and his 
sister with the umbrella. 

It looked very gray in the sky, and it looked 
very gray on the water. They were much 
afraid that they should not even reach the base 
of the East Cliff. Stout fishermen, in oilskin- 
covered hats and reddish-colored tanned 
smock-frocks, were standing amongst the fish¬ 
ing-boats. Not a fisherman had been out for 
these three days. Here and there a gentleman 
with a boy, or a gentleman without one, 
wrapped up in greatcoats, and with umbrellas 
in their hands, were walking on the shore. 
Herbert’s sister was the only lady that had 
ventured out. 


SEA TREASURES 


169 


It was a dull, still morning, and the only 
thing that seemed to have any life in it was the 
sea, which came thundering up with heavy bil¬ 
lows that looked like lead under that gloomy 
sky. There had been so few people out that 
morning that there was plenty of seaweed to 
be picked up; and Herbert had not gone far 
before he found two or three kinds which he 
had not seen before. He found shells, too, both 
large and small; and feathers of the sea-gull. 
All these, laid together in his basket, looked 
very pretty. How much Meggy and he would 
enjoy arranging them in their museum! 

On they walked, past the town and under 
the beautiful East Cliff, which they had been 
afraid of not being able to reach, and where 
great rocks were scattered thickly about the 
shore, and amongst which the dark sea, with 
its foaming billows, seemed to boil and churn 
and lash itself into fury. 

By this time the clouds began to break 


170 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


away; and, though it was not clear enough for 
the sun to come out, it was very pleasant. 

“ I am glad we came,” said Herbert. 

“ It is much better to have courage and not 
to be afraid of little difficulties,” said his sister. 

“ Yes, I know that by my reading, and my 
multiplication table,” said Herbert; and the 
two were beginning to moralize about bold, de¬ 
termined people always having much less trou¬ 
ble, and being able to accomplish much more 
than timid, irresolute ones, when Herbert 
stopped short and uttered a scream of de¬ 
lighted surprise. 

He had found something; what could it be? 
He had nearly set his foot upon it. Was it 
alive or was it dead? Was it a fish or a land- 
animal? He could not remember any such 
creature as that in Bewick’s “ Natural His¬ 
tory.” It was alive! Yes, it moved; it had 
such a number of legs! What a queer thing 
it was! 


SEA TREASURES 


171 


Herbert said that perhaps it might be a 
duck-billed platypus. No, it could not be a 
duck-billed platypus either, for that had some¬ 
thing like a duck’s beak, but this had nothing 
of the kind. This thing was somewhat like a 
long fat mouse, with its head, and legs, and tail 
all squeezed into its body, and with about 
twenty little legs on each side; there was a 
coarse sort of hair on its back and on its sides; 
and its sides looked quite metallic, and reflected 
colors like the inside of the Venus-ear shell. 
No, certainly it was not a duck-billed platypus. 

Then, suggested Herbert, perhaps it was 
quite a new kind of creature which nobody had 
ever seen before; perhaps they should have the 
honor of discovering it, and it would be called 
after them. The idea was quite delightful. 
Unfortunately, his sister could not flatter him 
with the hope that it might be so. But she 
would, she said, ask somebody. 

Presently they saw an old fisherman stand- 


172 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


ing on a sandy piece of beach, among wild 
rugged rocks, and to him they went. He was 
very busy digging in the sand. They waited 
till he made a pause in his work, and then 
asked him if he had ever seen such a thing as 
this they had found. 

The old man had a face as weather-beaten 
and as rugged as the rocks among which he 
stood. He looked at them and then at the crea¬ 
ture about which Herbert was so much inter¬ 
ested, and taking it into his great rough hand, 
he turned it over. Herbert thought that cer¬ 
tainly he never had seen such a creature before, 
and was getting quite excited, when the old 
man said,— 

“ Why, yes, it’s a sea-mouse; there’s plenty 
of them hereabouts, and they are very hand¬ 
some in sperrits! ” 

This, then, was a sea-mouse. All at once 
Herbert’s desire to be the discoverer of a new 
animal gave way to a fresh idea. House-mice 



SEA TREASURES 


173 


he knew, and field-mice, and wood-mice; and 
this, then, was their little comical ocean-cousin, 
the sea-mouse. He had listened to the reading 
of German stories of mcer-kcitzen, or sea-cats. 
He could now fancy the sea-cat lying in wait 
for the funny little sea-mouse. He put the 
sea-mouse in his basket among his treasures, 
and felt quite an affection for it. What would 
Meggy say when she saw the queer creature? 

While he was thinking about this, he had one 
ear open all the time to listen to what the old 
man was talking about. He said that he was 
setting baits for fish in the sand. He had a 
hook baited with a piece of fish fastened to a 
short line, the end of which, being tied to a 
brick or heavy stone, was buried in the sand. 
In this way he sometimes caught cod and 
conger-eels. Sometimes he would catch a good 
many; and sometimes he set his baits, tide after 
tide, day after day, and took nothing. If he 
caught anything, why, then he was thankful; 


174 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

if not, he set his baits again, and hoped for 
better luck next tide. 

Herbert and his sister bade him good morn¬ 
ing, and then walked on. Before they turned 
homeward the gray cloud had melted away 
into soft blue ether; the sun came out, and the 
shingly beach was soon dry. And that was the 
last storm, or even rain, that they had while 
they stayed at Hastings. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE LIGHT-GREEN BOAT 

One morning (it was the most beautiful 
morning that ever was seen) the sun shone 
with a warm golden light into their chambers 
before the children were awake. Beachy Head 
and Eastbourne stood clearly distinct in the 
eastern light; the morning sun was so daz- 
zlingly reflected in the sea that they could not 
look upon it. 

People were already out on the shore and 
the children were impatient to be up and 
dressed. For that one morning they did not 
care about seeing the little donkey milked 
at the next house, where the poor sick child 
was; and yet hitherto this had been one of the 
morning’s interesting events. 

As soon as breakfast was over, they set out 

175 


176 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


with their mother and sister, to go a long way 
up the shore—which, according to Herbert’s 
account, who had been along it on that gloomy 
morning, was the most charming thing in the 
world. Herbert carried a basket filled with 
biscuits and apples, and Mary took her sketch¬ 
book. 

Before they had gone far, they came to the 
place where the fish was brought in from the 
fishing-boats which had been out in the night. 
The large fishing-boats, with their great tan- 
colored sails, lay a little way out from the 
shore, in deep water, and between them and the 
shore went to and fro the little boats which 
brought away the fish. It was a very busy and 
a very amusing sight. 

Everybody looked active and cheerful. The 
strong fishermen, in their huge waterproof 
boots, and tanned short linen frocks, were car¬ 
rying baskets full of shining silvery herrings, 
and pouring them out upon the shore; and 



THE LIGHT-GREEN BOAT 


177 


there the fish lay in little mounds, by thousands 
and thousands. Other men were busy packing 
up these fish into square wicker-baskets, which 
were all to be sent off directly to London. 

Groups of women and children were stand¬ 
ing about, laughing and talking and looking on. 
There was a pretty young woman, with a child 
in her arms, and two older ones holding by her 
apron. Nothing could be prettier than this 
group—they looked so healthy and so good- 
humored. 

Presently there came up to them a stout, 
merry-faced fisherman, brown and weather¬ 
beaten, in his coarse fisherman’s dress, helping 
to bring up a huge basket of fish. The moment 
these two children saw him, they let go their 
mother’s apron, and sprang toward him with 
a shout of joy. The baby saw him, and kicked 
and screamed with delight; the mother smiled; 
the father emptied out the shining slippery 
fish; and then catching up both little children 


178 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

at once, one in each arm, gave them such a hug 
of affection as made them scream again. He 
gave, first to one, and then to the other, a loud 
smacking kiss; and then, snatching the baby 
from the mother, tossed and tickled and twirled 
it about, and held it up aloft on the palm of 
his huge strong hand; and the baby, accus¬ 
tomed to such rough merriment, screamed and 
kicked, and roared again with laughter. It 
was a pleasant sight! He was a fine fellow, 
that fisherman, and had a warm, loving heart 
under his coarse tan-colored frock. 

Herbert and Meggy watched all that went 
on with great delight; and when their mother 
reminded them that many of the disciples of 
Jesus Christ were rough, weather-beaten men, 
and, like these, went out at night on the seas of 
Galilee and Tiberias to catch fish, they felt only 
fresh interest in what they saw. 

The tide was sufficiently low to leave visible 
the large blocks of stone with which the part of 


THE LIGHT-GREEN BOAT 179 

the beach below East Cliff was scattered. 
Such stones as are usually covered by the tide 
are overgrown with a short, close-growing, vel¬ 
vety sea-moss, of a rich green color: the angles 
of many of the blocks of stone are worn off by 
the action of the waves; and this roundness and 
this moss give to them the fanciful appearance 
of huge heads covered with green wigs. 

Herbert and Meggy were delighted with this 
idea. They amused themselves by fancying 
all kinds of queer grotesque faces to each of 
these bewigged heads, and recalled all the 
stories that they had ever heard read of mer¬ 
men and mermaids, sitting on rocks in the sea, 
combing their long green hair. Surely this 
must be a great company of sea gods and god¬ 
desses, or mermen and mermaids, whose heads 
were only just above water; or else old Nep¬ 
tune and his court had met here, and now were 
looking about them with their odd stony faces 
and sleek green hair! 


180 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


The children found endless amusement here. 
On the tops of some of the larger blocks of 
stone they found hollows, which were still full 
of water, left from the tide which a few hours 
before had covered them: these they called 
lakes on the tops of mountains. They made 
boats of little limpet-shells, and twisted up lit¬ 
tle tiny bits of paper, which they called fisher¬ 
men, and set in them. Herbert blew them 
along; and it was the greatest delight imagi¬ 
nable to see how the one jostled the other, and 
what a natural desire they seemed to have to 
sail in company; and then Herbert blew a 
great hurricane and upset them all. Was not 
that a thing to lament over? 

Herbert showed his mother and Meggy the 
place where he had found the sea-mouse; but 
this time there was not one to be seen. Sup¬ 
pose the sea-cats had eaten them all up, he said, 
would not that be a misfortune? 

The old man was again setting his baits. 



They made boats of little limpet-shells.— Page 180. 































THE LIGHT-GREEN BOAT 


181 


They went to him and asked what luck he had 
had the night before. He told them that he 
had caught nothing—not a single fin! But he 
was setting his baits again, and maybe, he said, 
he should be more successful the next tide. 

The billows danced in the sunshine; curlews 
and sea-gulls flew along the water; and chat¬ 
tering jackdaws by hundreds wheeled round 
the tops of the cliff, and seemed as if they were 
saying, “ Here we are, Herbert and Meggy, 
this fine morning.” 

Before long, their mother thought they had 
all gone far enough without resting, so they 
sat down among the rocks at the foot of Ec- 
clesbourne Glen to rest; and the children, find¬ 
ing that they were hungry, ate some biscuits 
and apples. 

While they were thus sitting, a little boat 
came skimming along the sea at about a hun¬ 
dred yards’ distance from the shore. Ladies 
and gentlemen were seated in it. The boat 



182 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

seemed as light as a shell, and was painted pale 
green; a sailor in a blue shirt and red cap was 
rowing; the ladies were in bright-colored 
dresses, and had green parasols in their hands. 
With all its gay coloring and its smooth rapid 
movement, it was just like a boat in a fairy 
tale. Oh, how pretty it was! It glided along 
in the sunshine, and the water dropped from 
the oars like shining silver. 

Herbert and Meggy were seized with a de¬ 
sire for a ride in such a boat as that. They left 
off playing and watched it for a long time; 
and as it went farther off, they saw two sea¬ 
gulls dashing about in the golden sunshine, 
between them and the boat—and this made it 
look only the more like a lovely picture. After 
they had watched these objects till they were 
tired, they turned their attention to something 
else; and thus, after a very pleasant little rest, 
they set off again to walk farther up the shore. 

They walked on and on until at last their 



THE LIGHT-GREEN BOAT 183 

mother said it was quite time they turned their 
faces homeward. To walk on the shingly shore 
was always fatiguing, and soon Meggy found 
herself so tired that she did not know how in 
the world she should get home. She no longer 
took any pleasure in the green heads of the old 
sea-gods; nor did it seem worth while to look 
even at the little lakes on the tops of the rocky 
mountains, where, in going, they had sailed 
their little limpet-shell boats. 

They went on very slowly, and Meggy’s 
mother, like the weary little girl herself, wished 
that they had not gone so far. Herbert wished 
that he were big and strong enough to carry 
Meggy all the way home on his back; he was 
sure he could carry her a long way even as it 
was. He wished very much they would let him 
try to do it. 

As they were thus toiling on, they heard 
merry voices behind them, and turning round 
they saw that it was the gay party who had 


184 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


gone up in the boat, and were now walking 
along the beach like themselves. The little 
boat in the meantime kept alongside of them 
on the water, and was evidently going to take 
them in a little lower down. As they came up 
they saw how tired poor Meggy was; and 
kindly invited the whole party to come into 
their boat, and enjoy the trip back to Hastings. 

Meggy’s mother was very glad. She 
thought the ladies kind and considerate, and 
thankfully accepted their offer; and Meggy, 
tired as she was, jumped for joy. Herbert’s 
face brightened, and his eyes looked twice their 
usual size. He pulled Meggy a little out of 
the hearing of the others, and said how glad 
he was that they should have a ride in that 
beautiful boat; and that she would not have to 
walk back! 

The party got into the boat, and there 
seemed to be just room for everybody. 

So now the children had their wish, and were 


THE LIGHT-GREEN BOAT 


185 


riding in a lovely little green boat that went 
skimming along like a shell. The sailor in the 
blue shirt and red cap rowed away, the golden 
noonday light lit up the incoming tide, and 
the two sea-gulls dashed about in the sunny air 
just as they had done before. 

The children could see, as they sat in the 
boat, the very places on the shore where they 
had enjoyed themselves so much. There was 
the place where the sea-mouse was found, and 
where the old man set his baits; and other ladies 
and other children were hunting for shells and 
seaweed and pebbles, while still others were 
reading and sketching. 

Everybody looked up as they passed; and 
the children could fancy, perfectly well, how 
they themselves looked; and they could fancy, 
too, that other children would say, as they had 
done, how pleasant it must be to sail on the 
sunshiny sea in a light-green boat that went 
skimming over the waves like a shell! 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A COUNTRY EXCURSION 

One morning their mother told the children 
that they were going that day with her and 
Mary to the Lovers’ Seat, about three miles 
from Hastings. They had often heard of the 
Lovers’ Seat; they knew many people who had 
been to it. Their mother had gone one day 
before; and the kind people who had brought 
them home in the pretty green boat had been 
there that same morning. 

It was very delightful news, therefore, to 
Herbert and Meggy, that they were that very 
day going to the Lovers’ Seat themselves. 
They were to take some refreshment with 
them, and were to be out several hours. They 
never thought of the morning when Meggy 
was so tired with walking up the shore; she 

186 


A COUNTRY EXCURSION 187 

was not tired now, and so they did not think 
about fatigue. Herbert said he should carry 
the basket of eatables; he could carry also his 
sister’s sketch-book, and the book that his 
mother was going to read. They were very 
impatient to be off. 

Scarcely were they out of the door when 
they saw a pretty little blue carriage, drawn 
by a couple of goats, standing as if waiting for 
somebody. There were red cushions in the 
little carriage; and the goats were very pretty 
—the one was as white as snow, the other of 
a ruddy brown. A lad with a handsome face 
and bronze complexion stood beside the goats; 
he had a little stick in his hand, and was evi¬ 
dently their driver. As soon as he saw the chil¬ 
dren’s mother, he lifted his green cap from his 
head and smiled very merrily, as if he were in 
a good humor, and was going to enjoy some¬ 
thing very much. 

Herbert and Meggy had seen this little car- 



188 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


riage several times, and there had always been 
children riding in it, who seemed to find it very 
pleasant, as they had always thought they 
should, if they rode in it. And now, were they 
really going to ride in it? It must be so, for 
their mother walked up to the carriage, and 
then turned round and looked at the children. 

Meggy’s face all at once became as red as 
a rose with joy, and Herbert gave a loud ex¬ 
clamation of delight, as their mother said,— 
“ Now, children, what do you think of driving 
in this pretty carriage, with these pretty goats, 
all the way to the Lovers’ Seat? ” 

There was no necessity to wait for any reply. 
Never were there such looks of joy and sur¬ 
prise before. 

“ Thank you, dear mother!—thank you, dear 
mother! ” said they; and while Herbert seated 
himself with great dignity in the front seat, 
Martha lifted Meggy into the back seat. 
The basket of provisions and the books, which 



A COUNTRY EXCURSION 


189 


Herbert had been so anxious to carry, were 
put in also; and then the bronze-complexioned 
boy touched the goats with his little stick, and 
away they went. 

Really, it was a very charming thing to ride 
in a goat-carriage! The children were wonder¬ 
fully talkative; they were brimful of happi¬ 
ness, and the subjects of conversation that they 
found were endless. 

The little willing goats trotted on, nodding 
their horns and wagging their beards as they 
went; and the bronze-complexioned boy 
trudged on beside them, with his merry, hand¬ 
some face, looking back every now and then to 
see that all was right, and to cast a good- 
natured glance at the children, who seemed so 
much to enjoy their drive. 

They left the goat-chaise at a white gate, 
where they turned off from the road; and now 
Herbert carried the provision-basket and one 
of the books, while Meggy, anxious to be use- 


190 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


ful, claimed the privilege of carrying the other. 
They bounded along like mountain roes, and 
Herbert was so full of fun and spirits, that he 
was forced every now and then to set down 
his book and basket, that he might have the 
free use of all his limbs for a caper of delight. 

The children, who always thought the pres¬ 
ent pleasure the greatest they had ever en¬ 
joyed, now declared that they really never had 
seen anything so delightful as the walk which 
they were now taking. They passed through 
old pasture-fields, where grew ancient mossy 
crab-trees, and then down into a deep, deep 
lane, overshadowed ivith trees. The banks on 
either side rose up like slanting w^alls, and were 
overgrown and festooned with luxuriant 
branches of feathery fern, and the beautiful 
polished green leaves of the hart’s-tongue. 

After they left the lane they entered a wood, 
where children came and offered themselves 
as guides to the Lovers’ Seat; but Herbert’s 


A COUNTRY EXCURSION 


191 


mother preferred finding the way by them¬ 
selves. So they stopped and talked to the chil¬ 
dren, and gave them each a penny, and ad¬ 
mired the baby which one of them was tending. 
Then they walked on through the wood, gath¬ 
ering, as they went along, a nosegay of such 
autumn flowers as still remained. 

At the end of the wood they came quite 
suddenly upon a beautiful scene. Before them 
lay the hill, sloping downwards as smooth and 
green as velvet. A sort of terrace on the left 
evidently led to the famous Lovers’ Seat; for 
along this broad green path, groups of gay 
people were seen going and coming. 

Exactly opposite, lay the sea. Here and 
there on its surface skimmed along little boats, 
or larger craft with all their sails set. The 
greatest joy of all, however, to Herbert and 
his sister, was to see the very object for which 
they had looked, and looked in vain, ever since 
they came to Hastings. This was a steam- 


192 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


vessel. It was a long way out at sea, but still 
very distinct, and it advanced with a smooth, 
stately motion along the expanse of sunshiny 
water, leaving behind its trail of dark smoke. 
The children were delighted; they called it the 
Water Witch } and said that she was going 
from London to Portsmouth. 

At the Lovers’ Seat, which is perched like 
a sea-fowl’s nest on the side of the cliff over¬ 
looking the sea, they took their refreshment. 
Herbert amused himself with the idea that this 
was an eagle’s nest, and that he was a young 
eaglet that sat flapping its wings and gaping 
to be fed. 

In returning, instead of pursuing the green 
terrace on the hillside, by which they had 
come, they went down the smooth velvet-like 
hill into the valley below. The children ran, 
leaped, and shouted for joy. As they de¬ 
scended the hill, a low sound of delicate music 
reached them; it was like the tones of a music- 


A COUNTRY EXCURSION 193 

box, liquid and sweet!—like a ringing, ever- 
varying peal of the most melodious little bells! 

The low sweet music seemed at first to come 
from the wood: if it had been moonlight, the 
children might have fancied it came from a 
revel of the fairies, it was so sweet and delicate; 
but when they reached the bottom of the val¬ 
ley, and could see that part of the opposite 
hill which had till then been concealed by the 
wood, they found that it proceeded from a flock 
of sheep which was grazing in a compact 
group. 

They had often heard sheep-bells before, and 
so had their mother and sister. The old-fash¬ 
ioned sheep-bells, with their dry, monotonous 
dub, dub, had pleased them, because it was odd 
and country-like; and they could fancy the 
fat old sheep that had the honor of wearing the 
iron canister without a bottom, thinking that 
there was great dignity in its one-toned dub, 
dub. But this was so different! The flock, 


194 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


which was all beautifully white, and every in¬ 
dividual sheep of which was worthy to be 
painted in a picture, wore each one a little bell, 
which sent forth the most musical cadence, 
low and liquid, and ever varying. 

The children were in raptures. Meggy 
thought it was like the ringing of the bells of 
flowers, as she had read of it in fairy tales; 
only one must fancy, she said, that the music 
was heard through a magnifying-glass . Her¬ 
bert thought so, too. Their mother and Mary 
declared that they had never heard anything 
more melodious. They sat down on the hill¬ 
side and listened. The flock spread itself out, 
and the music became more soft and low. 
Meggy shut her eyes, and talked again about 
fairies dancing. She could think of nothing 
else. 

They sat there for a long time listening to 
the soft sighing of the breeze, the coo of the 
wood-pigeon, the low murmur of the sea and 


A COUNTRY EXCURSION 


195 


the chime of the little bells. Then they went 
into the wood and walked up a path that led to 
the Dripping Well. Here a stream tumbled 
with a lively sound from a ledge of rock into 
a little basin which the water had worn for it¬ 
self. A magnificent chestnut-tree arched over 
the basin like a tent. 

The children said it was just such a well as a 
hermit would like to have had near his cell. 
They fancied that in ancient times there must 
have been a hermit living somewhere in these 
beautiful woods. 

This was a day’s ramble not to be forgotten; 
and in the evening, when they talked it over, 
they all agreed that it was one of the pleasant¬ 
est days they ever had spent. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A DISAPPOINTING SEA TRIP 

After they had been a fortnight at Has¬ 
tings, their father and elder brother joined 
them. The children knew enough about the 
early history of England to take great interest 
in Hastings and its neighborhood, as connected 
with William the Conqueror. They had seen 
Pevensey Bay from a distance, and they heard 
that the place where that great and bloody bat¬ 
tle was fought between Harold the Saxon 
king and William the Conqueror was about 
seven miles off; but they had no expectation of 
going to either of these places. It was a very 
joyful surprise, therefore, when one day their 
father said that while he stayed with them they 

would go to both these famous places; and, 

196 


A DISAPPOINTING SEA TRIP 


197 


what was still more delightful, that they would 
take a boat and go by water to Pevensey. 

The day came on which they were to go on 
this sea trip. It was a splendid morning, warm 
and bright, and the wind was in the right direc¬ 
tion; a soft, steady breeze, just enough to fill 
their sails, and carry them to Pevensey in a 
short time. 

Herbert went with his father to look for a 
boat, and came back again in the highest spir¬ 
its: they had engaged, he declared, the most 
beautiful boat in Hastings. Two men were to 
row them, and they were to have a couple of 
sails. The boat was called the Nautilus —was 
not that a beautiful name? The men who were 
to go with the boat said it was just the day for 
going to Pevensey, just the right wind: they 
should get there in an hour and a half with 
that wind, and it would take them two hours 
to row back again. 

Everybody was delighted. Martha was to 



198 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

go with them; and nothing could exceed the 
zeal with which the children informed her of 
all those historic facts which made Pevensey 
so interesting. The basket of provisions was 
ready. The sun was burning hot, and the 
party almost scorned the idea of cloaks and 
warm shawls being taken with them; Mary 
took her sketch-book, and Alfred the large 
telescope; and away they went for a day of 
thorough pleasure. 

After rowing a little distance, the men laid 
up their oars, and began to busy themselves 
in hoisting the sails. Herbert was deeply in¬ 
terested; he had so much to ask, and so much 
to see, that he was in everybody’s way. The 
sails were hoisted, and the children now 
thought that nothing could be more charming; 
they could just imagine how it would look 
from the shore. The motion was so smooth, 
that they wished they were going to sail in this 
way for days. Mary began to make a sketch 


A DISAPPOINTING SEA TRIP 


199 


of the elder man, who had a handsome weather¬ 
beaten countenance. 

Presently, however, one of the ropes which 
confined the sails gave a perverse sort of swing, 
and knocked off Alfred’s hat. The men 
apologized, as if it were their fault, and made 
some little alteration; but that alteration only 
caused the rope to knock off the father’s hat. 
The men were quite vehement in their apolo¬ 
gies. They said that the whole arrangement 
of one sail must be altered—so down it came, 
and up it went again; but now it was ten times 
worse than ever. The sails blustered about 
like wild things, and carried the little boat 
quite out of its course. 

Thin clouds were now coming up and 
veiling the sun, and everybody began to think 
about cloaks and warm shawls; the men also 
pulled their jackets out from a sort of little 
cupboard at one end of the boat and put them 
on; and Mary put aside her sketch-book, for 


200 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

the motion of the boat prevented her drawing 
a line. Meggy was very quiet—much quieter 
than common. 

The sun went behind a thick cloud, and the 
wind began to blow in their faces. How was 
that? It must have changed. The men set 
about altering the sails again. Down they 
came, and up they went once more; now they 
were tightened, now they were loosened; now 
they were hung this way, now that; and soon 
they were taken down altogether, and the men 
resumed their oars. 

It was quite cold now, and a gray gloom 
had come over sea and sky. The little group in 
the boat sat wrapped up in their cloaks and 
shawls; Meggy was very quiet and rather pale, 
and Alfred and Herbert ravenously hungry. 
They counted the sea-gulls, and watched the 
merry little divers, that one minute were on 
the surface of the water, like a beautiful kind 
of duck, and the next were gone—but were 



A DISAPPOINTING SEA TRIP 


201 


sure to pop up into sight again, often at a dis¬ 
tance of several hundred yards. The two boys 
watched and admired these, and ate some 
dozens of sandwiches, and were full of life 
and fun. 

In the meantime the boat approached no 
nearer to Pevensey. It had advanced as far 
as Bulverhithe, and there it seemed determined 
to stay. A sort of gray haze was coming up 
from the sea; it looked rather dismal. The 
men said that very often the wind stayed in 
this quarter for weeks, and brought terrible 
storms with it. 

The time had dragged on to afternoon, and 
they were as far off as ever. The men seemed 
to have changed, like the weather; they looked 
gloomy, and seemed to have lost their gaiety. 
They evidently wanted their dinners, and saw 
no prospect of having them anyAvhere but at 
Hastings. 

There was nothing, therefore, to be done, 


202 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

but for the children’s father to give the word 
that the boat’s head should be turned about, 
and the sails again hoisted. In a minute after 
he had resolved on this it was done; and in a 
very short time the boat was going merrily 
over the sea, tossing on its waves, and scudding 
before a brisk west wind. 

Again they saw the sea-gulls and divers. 
The boys shouted and sang as they had done 
before; the men looked cheerful and alert; and 
little Meggy, nestled in the bottom of the boat 
between her mother and sister, fell asleep. 

They were again at home. They had a good 
fire made in their little parlor, sat down to 
dinner, and talked over, the while, their voyage 
to Pevensey. They all agreed that they had 
been much less successful than William the 
Conqueror. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE CHILDREN VISIT BATTLE 

Their “ defeat at Pevensev,” as their little 
unsuccessful trip came to be called, did not dis¬ 
courage them from going to Battle. The wild 
west wind, which had troubled them the other 
day, sunk to rest without a storm; and again 
the sun shone bright, on the morning when 
they set out in a large open carriage on this 
second excursion. 

They had read about the great battle of 
Hastings, at which Harold was killed, and 
where thirty thousand men of the English 
alone lost their lives. They were going now 
to see the scene of this terrible tragedy, which, 
having been acted there nearly eight hundred 
years before, had left its name and its bloody 
memory to all future time. 

They talked, as they went, of the probable 

203 


204 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

state and aspect of England when William 
came over from the opposite coast of Nor¬ 
mandy in his flat-bottomed boats. The sea 
must then have looked much the same as now, 
except for the difference in the shipping; but 
the country itself must have looked very dif¬ 
ferent. A great part of this flat coast of Sus¬ 
sex was then a succession of dreary, desolate 
marshes; but for all that, William knew that 
England was a noble country, and he deter¬ 
mined to try to conquer it. He therefore 
brought over a vast army, landed at Pevensey, 
and, advancing but a short distance into the 
country, was met by Harold the Saxon king 
and his army. They fought. Harold was 
killed, his army defeated; and from that time 
William and his Normans became masters of 
England. 

As the family approached Battle, all were 
struck with the beauty of its situation. With 


THE CHILDREN VISIT BATTLE 205 


its church and charmingly picturesque abbey, 

* 

it lay in the bottom of an open valley, richly 
wooded and cultivated. Here had raged the 
great battle of Hastings, which was fought on 
the 14th of October, 1066. 

Like other visitors, the children and their 
parents went through Battle Abbey and saw 
everything which was to be seen. This abbey 
was built by William the Conqueror, and a 
chapel was raised over the very spot where 
King Harold fell. The chapel is now quite de¬ 
molished ; nothing remains of it but its founda¬ 
tions and the bases of its pillars. 

The children were much interested in such 
rooms in the abbey as are shown to visitors; 
the hall, with its armor, and the large painting 
of the battle of Hastings; and the old parlor 
of the monks, with its low arched roof and 
aisles like a church. Nothing, however, ex¬ 
cited their imagination more than the cells in 
the old ruinous part of the abbey in which 


206 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


skeletons had been found. That was horrible 
indeed! Until that moment, the children had 
no idea that men had ever been so cruel to 
their fellow-beings as to wall them up alive 
and leave them to perish. 

Herbert and Meggy for the first time began 
to rejoice in the belief that the world is mend¬ 
ing. People would not dare to do such things 
in England now. 

“ Now, if poor people are in distress,” said 
Herbert, with flashing eyes and glowing 
cheeks, “ rich people help them; and the Queen 
and the Parliament are always thinking what 
they can do to make people happier and bet¬ 
ter ! And if anybody were to attempt to starve 
anybody to death in a narrow brick dungeon 
like this, the Queen and all the nation would 
rise up against them! I know they would! ” 
continued he; “ and so would the newspapers! 
People could not be so wicked now, if they 
would—and I don’t even think anybody 


THE CHILDREN VISIT BATTLE 207 

would! Are not you glad, Meggy, that you 
live now, and not when people were so wicked 
and so hard-hearted? ” he asked. 

The whole party agreed with Herbert in 
thinking that the world had mended since the 
times when people might be bricked up in nar¬ 
row cells and left to perish; but still, his mother 
told him, improved as the world was in many 
respects, there was a great deal to be done yet 
before it should be as perfect as it might be; 
and that everybody, even little boys and girls, 
must try to do something toward improving 
it still more; and that if they would always 
remember never to do to others what they 
should not like others to do to them, then they 
would be sure not to do anything wrong to¬ 
ward their fellow-creatures. 

Herbert and Meggy understood this per¬ 
fectly. Each took the other’s hand, and they 
walked off, perhaps to continue the subject, 
but much more likely to talk of something else. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 

The pleasant month at Hastings was over. 
The children bade farewell to the sea and the 
shore, paid their last visit to the Castle and the 
East Cliff, and to the old sea-gods with their 
green wigs; and, furnished with a plentiful 
supply of roots of thrift, and sea-poppy, and 
fern, and hart’s-tongue for the rockery at 
home, and with what they thought a most val¬ 
uable collection of pebbles, shells, and sea¬ 
weed, they returned to London. They were 
very sorry to leave Hastings. They thought 
that the month they spent there was the pleas¬ 
antest time they had ever spent anywhere. 

Herbert and Meggy had again parted. He 
was at school and she was at home; but the 

parting, this time, was without tears, for they 

208 


A REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 209 

found that their occasional meetings were so 
full of pleasure that really they had nothing 
more to desire. In a few weeks it would be 
Christmas, and then there would be the long 
holidays, when they should be together for six 
weeks. 

It looked a great deal more like winter and 
the approach toward Christmas when they 
reached home, than it had at Hastings. There 
it had been very warm,—so warm indeed that 
no fire was needed except in an evening; they 
had seen the sun rise in the morning, and set at 
night. Here at home it was quite different; it 
felt cold, and was often very foggy, and the sun 
seemed hardly to shine all day; nobody could 
do without fire, and people were wearing their 
winter clothing. It really was the beginning 
of winter in London, and at Hastings it had 
often seemed like June. Well, the only com¬ 
fort was that Christmas was coming. 

A short time after their return, Alfred in- 


210 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


formed Herbert and Meggy that Pelz-Nickel 
was coming to pay them a visit; and the 
thought of him made the whole family talk a 
great deal about the Christmas they had spent 
in Germany, and the visits of Pelz-Nickel and 
the “ Christmas-angel.” 

Who was Pelz-Nickel? He was the fore¬ 
runner of the little angel of Christmas. He 
came about two weeks before Christmas to 
everybody’s house, rich and poor alike, to learn 
whether the children were good, and worthy 
to receive such presents as the kind and beauti¬ 
ful little Christmas-angel was going to bring 
to them. 

Pelz-Nickel had come to Herbert and 
Meggy’s home in Germany. They remem¬ 
bered all about it. Before it grew dusk, their 
faces and hands were well washed, their hair 
smoothly brushed, and they were made very 
neat and nice to receive him. They sat in the 


A REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 211 

drawing-room, with their parents, and brother 
and sister, and Ellen, all waiting for Pelz- 
Nickel’s arrival. 

At last one of the German maids ran up¬ 
stairs out of the kitchen, looking quite ex¬ 
cited, and said he really was coming; he was 
just then at the door! A loud, very, very loud 
ringing at the great entrance-door was then 
heard; heavy footsteps slowly ascended the 
broad stone staircase, and strange sounds were 
heard as of a gruff voice, and the dragging of 
a chain, and then the drawing-room door hurst 
open, and in walked Pelz-Nickel. 

He was, as his name expressed, dressed in 
furs—his name meaning Furry-Nicholas. He 
had a high fur cap on, fur boots, and a fur 
cloak, which was bound round him by a chain, 
the end of which dragged on the ground; on 
one side hung a huge bag, and in one hand he 
held a ponderous rod, as long as a broom- 
handle, only not so thick. 



212 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


He said that he was the celebrated Pelz- 
Nickel, come all the way out of Russia, and 
now made his annual visit to that house to in¬ 
quire about the characters of the two children, 
Herbert and Meggy, that he might report 
them to the little Christmas-angel. 

He asked about their learning; demanded 
to see their writing-books and hear them 
read; he said he had heard such and such bad 
things of them (any little faults which, of 
course, he had been told beforehand). Of 
these faults they must cure themselves, or else 
—and here he shook his tremendous rod over 
them,—or else they would be punished in some 
dreadful way or other. 

However, continued Pelz-Nickel, other 
things also had he heard of them, which had 
given him great pleasure,—and these were, that 
they tried, as much as they knew how, to do 
right; that they were industrious; loving to 
each other and obedient to their parents; and 


A REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 213 

therefore he would present them with a token 
of his good-will and kindness. 

With that he put his hand into his great big 
bag, and out came such a torrent of apples and 
gingerbread, nuts and raisins, and all kinds 
of things, as never was seen. What a rejoicing 
there was, and what a scrambling to pick up 
everything! Yet all the time what a secret 
dread lest they should go within reach of his 
great rod, which he kept flourishing about con¬ 
stantly as if he meant to use it! 

After this scrambling and bustling had 
somewhat subsided, Pelz-Nickel had something 
further to say,—and that was, that since he 
could give a good report of them the little 
Christmas-angel would assuredly pay them a 
visit on Christmas Eve, and would bring them 
many very beautiful things. Having said this, 
Pelz-Nickel smiled, made his bow, and de¬ 
parted. He was not, after all, anything to be 
afraid of. He was a right good fellow, and the 



214 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


children only wished that he would come once 
a week instead of once a year. 

As Pelz-Nickel had said that the little 
Christmas-angel would come, wonderful were 
the preparations that were made to receive that 
visitor. Nobody was permitted to go into the 
drawing-room all the day before Christmas 
Eve. It was shut up, and the children were 
sure that something very unusual was going 
on there. 

Everybody also looked busy and mysteri¬ 
ous ; and though they had been ordered to keep 
in the nursery with Ellen all the day, yet they 
were forever popping out and running into 
everybody’s way, and everybody was carrying 
something or other, and was sure to call out, 
“ Do go out of my way, children! ” or “ What 
are you children doing here?” and then off 
they would scamper, only to meet a somebody 
else who was carrying another mysterious 
something. Well, it was all very strange! 


A REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 215 

Herbert threw himself down on his little old- 
fashioned wooden German stool, and laughed 
with all his might. He was sure that some¬ 
thing funny was going to happen. Meggy, 
who was very little then, sat down on her lit¬ 
tle wooden stool beside him, and laughed with 
all her might, too. 

At last afternoon came, and after the chil¬ 
dren had had an extra good washing and hair- 
brushing, they were dressed in their best 
clothes in honor of the expected wonderful vis¬ 
itor. Then it began to get dusk, and as soon 
as it was quite dark the little Christmas-angel 
would come! And then—and then—oh, no¬ 
body knew what would happen then! The 
children did not, that was quite certain, for 
they had never been in Germany before, nor 
had read German books. All they knew was 
that, ever since that funny old Pelz-Nickel 
came, everybody had been talking about the 
little Christmas-angel’s visit and making great 


216 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


preparations; so there must be something very 
extraordinary about it. 

At length it grew dark, and then some Ger¬ 
man friends, who were come to spend the day 

V 

with them, said that the little Christmas-angel 
had come into the house, nay, even into the 
drawing-room, and that in a few minutes the 
drawing-room door would open, and then— 
what would they not see! The children stood 
hand in hand, almost afraid to breathe. Their 
eyes seemed twice their usual size, because of 
the wonders they expected to behold. 

And after all, were they satisfied with what 
they saw? Nobody need have asked that ques¬ 
tion who saw their looks, and heard their 
shout of amazement, when the drawing-room 
door really opened. The whole room looked 
to them like a fairy palace—such a blaze of 
light was there, revealing such wonderful 
things! 

There was a tree, just like a tree come down 




A REMEMBERED CHRISTMAS 217 

from heaven, covered as if with flowers of 
softly burning light; birds of sugar, and of the 
loveliest colors of the rainbow, sat in the 
branches; and all the branches were laden with 
the most wonderful and varied fruits. There 
were golden apples, and pears, and nuts; 
bunches of raisins, and almonds, and walnuts, 
and cakes, shaped like hearts; and rings, and 
diamonds, and beautiful bouquets of flowers, 
made of sugar! There was no telling all the 
fruit which that wonderful tree bore! And 
under the tree there was a garden full of flow¬ 
ers and velvet-like moss; and a stag with gilded 
horns, and a shepherd with his sheep were also 
in the garden. No wonder that the grown-ups 
as well as the children were delighted. 

But the tree was not the only wonderful 
thing, for there was the little Christmas-angel, 
all in white, with white wings, and a crown of 
silver on her head, and a little silver bell in her 
hand; and she rang her little bell, and then, 


218 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


first to one and then to another, gave beautiful 
presents. 

The children remembered all this—they 
would never forget it. They remembered the 
doll and the horse, and the little dishes and 
plates, and chairs and tables, which she had 
given them, and the great picture-books, which 
they still had, and the little fable books, and 
the scarlet coats trimmed with fur, that she had 
brought, too. Was she not a wonderful 
Christmas-angel ? 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


PELZ-NICKEL, JUNIOR 

Yes, the children remembered that Christ¬ 
mas in Germany very well indeed; and now 
this winter when the Christmas season was 
again drawing near, they almost wished them¬ 
selves in Germany! 

However, Alfred told them one day, that 
Pelz-Nickel, Junior, was intending to ‘pay 
them a visit in their English home. 

What exciting news this was! 

The children asked Alfred whether this 
Pelz-Nickel, Junior, who was coming to see 
them, was like the one they had seen in Ger¬ 
many. Alfred said, no, not exactly like him, 
for he was old Pelz-Nickel’s youngest brother, 
and therefore could not afford to be as well- 
dressed; for instance, the coat in which he 

219 


220 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

would come—and it was his best coat, and one 
which he had made for the occasion—was 
made of coarse hempen cloth, and was only 
lined with fur. His hair, which was flax-col¬ 
ored, was tied behind in a long pigtail. lie 
had a red, frost-bitten sort of face, and spoke 
in a queer squeaky voice, and altogether was 
not half so grave and venerable as his elder 
brother. But then he had quite as large a rod, 
and Alfred was not sure whether his bag was 
not larger; at all events, he had plenty of good 
things in it, and therefore would do quite as 
well for them. 

The children were in a state of the highest 
excitement and delight. The very day after 
Alfred had described him, a letter written in 
queer, sharp-pointed German characters came 
to the family. It was to make known that on 
the very evening on which that letter was re¬ 
ceived Pelz-Nickel, Junior, would pay them a 
visit. How the little children rejoiced to hear 




PELZ-NICKEL, JUNIOR 221 

this! Alfred looked grave, shook his head, and 
s$id that he meant to be out of the way when 
young Pelz-Nickel came. The children 
thought that was very cowardly. They said 
they were not the least in the world afraid, and 
they were sure Pelz-Nickel, Junior, would 
leave him something. But Alfred was not to 
be persuaded; so as soon as it began to grow 
dusk, he took up his hat and walked off. 

The children and their mother sat by the 
fire. It was almost dark out-of-doors, and 
they ran to the library to beg that their father 
would come in and see Pelz-Nickel; and he, 
like a good father as he was, allowed himself to 
be dragged in, even from a new book which 
he was reading. Mary came in after the chil¬ 
dren had spent a whole quarter of an hour in 
trying to find her—people did hide them¬ 
selves so unaccountably, they said. 

However, Mary was now there, and so were 
their father and mother, and the candles were 



222 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


brought in; and then Mary said, she quite be¬ 
lieved that Pelz-Nickel was not far off. 
Scarcely had she said these words when a loud 
ringing at the bell announced his arrival. His 
steps were heard in the hall, his chain rattled, 
and the queer squeaking voice of which Alfred 
had spoken was heard, and in he came! He 
spoke broken English at first, and then he be¬ 
gan talking German. 

First of all he ordered Meggy to come, and 
then Herbert, and questioned them about many 
things, and told them of all their little faults 
—there was not one he did not know of! He 
even knew about Herbert’s swinging the doll 
round by its legs, and scattering the sawdust 
out of its body, and saying that dolls were silly 
things. He knew about Meggy’s idleness over 
the kettle-holder she was making, and prefer¬ 
ring rather to knit the cat a stocking than to 
read her lessons! He was a wonderfully well- 
informed Pelz-Nickel! 


PELZ-NICKEL, JUNIOR 223 

He shook his rod about desperately, and then 
he shook his bag, and the children heard the 
nuts rattling in it; but just as they thought he 
was going to put his hand in and bring some¬ 
thing out, he suddenly turned round and de¬ 
manded where that youth was—that elder son 
—that Alfred? 

Herbert burst into a fit of laughter; Meggy 
looked frightened, and wondered what Her¬ 
bert could mean by laughing in that way. 
Herbert knew that this Pelz-Nickel, Junior, 
was Alfred himself, and that was why he 
laughed. He laughed again, and afraid that 
Pelz-Nickel might not hear him, he plucked at 
his coarse coat, and told him that Alfred had 
gone away because he was coming. 

“ Ho! ho! ” said Pelz-Nickel, “ I’ll be after 
him when I’ve done with you!” and he put 
his hand in his bag, and said that they should 
see what he had brought for good children; and 
out came lots of good things,—such rosy- 




224 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

cheeked apples, though it was Christmas, and 
such nuts, and raisins, and gingerbread! He 
said they must take care not to give Alfred 
any, for that he had something for him, too, if 
he could only catch him; and he began to make 
movements with his terrible rod as if it were 
that that he meant. Then he suddenly dis¬ 
appeared. 

In a little while Alfred came in. He was 
as full of inquiries as the children were of 
news. Herbert, who entered into the whole 
joke completely, began to tell Alfred how 
Pelz-Nickel, Junior, was dressed, and what a 
queer figure he looked with his hair tied in a 
long tail. And such a face! He had a white 
beard that hung to his breast, and a coat all 
lined with sheepskin like rugs, and hairy 
gloves, and such big legs and shoes, quite as 
rough and odd-looking as grandmamma’s buf¬ 
falo-slippers; and a fur cap standing up half 
a yard, just like his mother’s muff—oh, if 



Herbert knew that this Pelz-Nickel, Junior, was Alfred 

HIMSELF. —Page 224 . 



















































PELZ-NICKEL, JUNIOR 225 

Alfred had but seen him! And then his voice! 
Herbert laughed and jumped about for joy. 

Later in the evening, as the children were 
cracking their nuts and eating some of their 
apples, what should they see but Alfred take 
just such an apple as one of theirs out of his 
pocket, and begin to eat it—without ever think¬ 
ing that they would notice it. Herbert was 
sure from this that he was right in his con¬ 
jectures. He whispered his opinion to Meggy. 
Alfred was Pelz-Nickel, Junior! Meggy did 
not so readily comprehend all this. Alfred 
went out of the house, she argued; she herself 
had seen him go. He only pretended to go, 
said Herbert; he went upstairs or somewhere to 
dress himself, and Mary helped him. She came 
in, and then Pelz-Nickel came; for how could 
Alfred be in the room, if he were Pelz-Nickel? 
No, certainly! Did she not see? Pelz-Nickel 
went out and then Alfred came in; and now 
Alfred had an apple out of his own bag. That 


226 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


was it! that was it! He saw it all as plainly 
as could be. Pelz-Nickel was only Alfred. 

It might be so, Meggy said; but she was not 
quite sure. 

Herbert said he was very sure about it, 
but that he chose to believe in Pelz-Nickel, 
and hoped he would come to see them again 
sometime. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


CHRISTMAS EYE 

In Germany, the year before, Pelz- 
Xickel’s visit was only preparatory to that of 
the little Christmas-angel, and Herbert and 
Meggy thought it would be the same this year. 

On Christmas Eve they sat with their father 
and mother by the library fire, talking about 
the hundreds and thousands of happy families 
in England, who were going to enjoy that 
evening as fully as they were. They wished 
that there was nobody too poor in Eng¬ 
land and Scotland and Ireland to make a fes¬ 
tival, and to receive a visit from the little 
Christmas-angel. While they were thus speak¬ 
ing, a silvery bell in their own house was heard 
to ring, and Mary summoned them all into the 
dining-room, where the visitor was to be re- 

227 


228 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

ceived. The room was light and cheerful, with 
plenty of red-berried holly, ivy and mistletoe, 
but there was no Christmas-tree. Presently, 
however, a sound was heard outside—no doubt 
it was the beautiful white-winged Christmas- 
angel! The door opened, and then who should 
enter but the comical white-bearded, squeaky- 
voiced Pelz-Nickel, Junior! 

There was some strange mistake, Mary said, 
and the little Christmas-angel must have lost 
her way, for here again was Pelz-Nickel. She 
wanted to keep him out of the house, she said, 
but he would come in, and he was so strong 
that it was no use opposing him. 

On this, Pelz-Nickel began bowing and 
scraping, and making endless apologies in 
English and German. He knew it would all 
be badly managed, he said, for the English did 
not understand a regular German Christmas. 
The English, he said, were a very left-handed 
people—he begged pardon for saying so—and 




CHRISTMAS EVE 


229 


that made him just look in as he was on his 
way back to Novgorod, for he had taken a 
great liking to the little children. So, as he 
was here, he would with permission of all the 
good company assembled, take upon himself 
to be the little Christmas-angel—which would 
be very wrong, he knew, according to German 
usage, but it would do very well for England. 

Herbert whispered to Mary that he did not 
like that, for England was quite as good as 
Germany. Mary squeezed his hand to make 
him quiet, for Pelz-Nickel, in a voice ten times 
more squeaky than ever, said he would now 
distribute the gifts. Everybody thought that 
all these gifts were to come out of his bag, but 
instead of that he drew a great marketing 
basket, to everybody’s surprise, from under the 
table. The basket was covered with a cloth, 
and on this being removed it was seen to be 
full of beautiful things. There was a wooden 
box for Meggy and Herbert, which their 


230 THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 

father had given them, full of carpenter’s tools. 
It was just what they wanted. What a great 
deal of work they could do in their house now! 
Then came a book for them—“ The Good- 
natured Bear.” The author had sent it to 
them; but who was the author ? Nobody knew; 
everybody said it must be Pelz-Nickel himself. 
Then came something for somebody else, and 
then something for Alfred. Alfred was called, 
but no Alfred came. 

“ Put it into your bag, Pelz-Nickel!” 
shouted Herbert. Pelz-Nickel said it was a 
good idea, and that he would keep it, too. Her¬ 
bert danced about for joy, and everything that 
was for Alfred went into Pelz-Nickel’s bag. 

Presently there came a fresh set of chairs 
and tables for Herbert and Meggy’s house; 
and then such a flock of poultry,—hens and 
cocks and guinea-fowls,—all made with real 
feathers of the real birds,—and they could 
stand, and looked just like life. Then there 




CHRISTMAS EVE 


231 


were more books,—fairy tales and histories of 
England, and nobody knew what else. And 
there were purses, and slippers, and beautiful 
pocket-handkerchiefs, and drawings and books 
for the rest of the family. It seemed as if 
there would be no end to the treasures out of 
Pelz-Nickel’s basket. 

Pelz-Nickel made a great deal of fun. 
There never was a merrier Christmas Eve, even 
in Germany, than that. When he came to¬ 
ward the bottom of the basket, he said that 
the remainder of the things were meant for the 
servants, and therefore he begged that Her¬ 
bert and Meggy might show him the way to 
the kitchen, because, as a stranger, he could not 
be supposed to know the house. 

The children were delighted. Meggy had 
lost all fear of him, and downstairs they went 
with a great deal of noise and laughter, Pelz- 
Nickel even carrying Meggy on his back. 

After everybody in parlor and kitchen had 



232 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


received their gifts, Pelz-Nickel begged to 
sing a song, and then take his leave. He did 
so, made a dozen bows, said that he should tell 
all the good people in Novgorod, when he got 
there, what excellent, dearly-beloved children 
were Herbert and Meggy; and so went out. 

They seated themselves, with their beautiful 
presents, round the fire. Presently in rushed 
Alfred with his arms full of things. He 
seemed out of breath, and looked quite hot; he 
said he had met that fellow Pelz-Nickel, and 
found that he was carrying off his presents in 
his bag. He said he had had a terrible piece 
of work with him, but had managed, he be¬ 
lieved, to get all his things at last, and that 
Pelz-Nickel was now quite gone. He was on 
his way to Novgorod, and would not return 
again to England until another year. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE PANTOMIME 

New Year’s Day was come, and in eight 
days from this time Herbert would be eight 
years old. 

Herbert and Meggy had a great desire to 
see a pantomime; and their surprise and 
pleasure may be imagined, when one morning 
at breakfast their father said, “ I hear that 
Herbert’s birthday is just at hand!” Their 
father never remembered birthdays, and some¬ 
body had always to remind him of them. “ I 
hear,” said he, “ that Herbert’s birthday is just 
at hand. Of course, he expects something on 
his birthday. All little boys do! ” 

Herbert smiled because he knew that his 
father was going to propose something pleas¬ 
ant. Meggy smiled, too, and took hold of his 

233 


234 THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 

hand—it was her way whenever Herbert was 
either in joy or trouble, for the spirit of sym¬ 
pathy was very strong in her. 

“ Of course Herbert expects something on 
his birthday,” repeated his father. “ What 
shall it be? ” 

The children looked at one another, then at 
their mother, then at Mary, and then at their 
father, but they said nothing. 

“ I have been thinking,” said he, “ that if 
you, Herbert, went to a pantomime, Meggy 
must go, too.” 

“ A pantomime!” exclaimed both children 
at once. “ Do let us go to a pantomime, father 
dear! ” 

“ Yes,” continued their father, “ we should 
be obliged to take Meggy with us. Don’t you 
think so, Herbert? and don’t you think that 
your mother and I, and you and Meggy, would 
make a nice little party? ” 

Everybody was of the same opinion. 


THE PANTOMIME 


235 


lt There are several performing at present,” 
said their father. “We must now take the 
matter into serious consideration, for we can¬ 
not afford to go, such a large party, twice to 
the pantomime; so you must choose wisely, 
that we may see the very best.” 

Alfred and Mary undertook to consult all 
the newspapers on this subject, and to ask all 
their friends, and report accordingly. They re¬ 
ported that “ Gulliver ” was the most amusing 
pantomime in the world. Nothing more could 
be desired, and it was all settled that very 
same evening that Herbert’s birthday pleasure 
was to be his and Meggy’s going to see Gul¬ 
liver. 

“ Oh, how good we will be, and how quiet! 
and we will not disturb anybody all day,” 
said Herbert to Meggy on the morning of his 
birthday; “ for is it not kind of father and 
mother to take us to the pantomime? ” 

The only regret to the children, at the be- 


236 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


ginning of this day, was that plays began in 
the evening instead of the morning. 

The evening, however, finally came; and the 
carriage which was to take them to the pan¬ 
tomime came also; and away they went. 

When they reached the place the children’s 
hearts beat with excitement! There was a 
throng of carriages at the door, and they had 
to wait some time before they could get in. 

But at last they entered, and took their 
seats; and in a little while the curtain drew up 
and the wonderful show began. 

The first scene was Guildhall, after a Lord 
Mayor’s feast, with Gog and Magog, those 
very giants which Herbert had seen in the sum¬ 
mer, and about which he had had so much to 
tell to Meggy. And Gog and Magog, at the 
hour of twelve, came down from their pedes¬ 
tals, just as the funny gentleman had said they 
did. Then, all of a sudden, the beautiful 
fairy queen made her appearance,—the fairy 


TEE PANTOMIME 


237 


queen which Meggy liked so much! This 
really was the best of all. 

Another best of all, however, came when 
Gulliver found himself in the island of Lilli- 
put, amongst all its swarms of little people. 
Not a word did either Meggy or Herbert say 
when they saw this. First there was the little 
wood-cutter, and his tidy little wife, who dis¬ 
covered the giant Gulliver lying asleep on the 
shore. How charming were this little man and 
his little wife even in their terror! They 
roused the whole country round; and in came 
flocking little townfolks and little country¬ 
folks, in all sorts of old-fashioned and new- 
fashioned dresses; and doctors in wigs and 
spectacles; and little old women and little old 
men hobbling along, afraid of being too late; 
and little policemen, in little blue uniforms, 
who were too late. 

The scene changed. The king and queen of 
Lilliput came forth in all state, attended by 


238 


THE CHILDREN'S YEAR 


their court and their guards. Little feet 
moved on again, this time with a stately and 
measured tread; little heads were held aloft, 
in all the dignity of powder and plumes; and 
in front of the lovely little palace of Lilliput 
the king and queen seated themselves on their 
little thrones. 

The children might well admire it. Even 
their mother said that it was beautiful. 

Long before the pantomime had reached the 
second act, however, Herbert had recovered 
himself so as to give the most lively demonstra¬ 
tions of his pleasure. He laughed and 
clapped, and entered into the fun of Gulliver 
eating up all the royal dinner, and carrying 
off dozens of people at once, with even the king 
and queen themselves tucked under his arm, 
when the great fire broke out in the palace. 

The children’s amazement was unbounded 
when all at once Gulliver and his old wife 
transformed themselves into clown and panta- 


THE PANTOMIME 


239 


loon,—comical characters, who filled the rest of 
the evening with their merry pranks. 

It was past midnight when the children 
reached home, and even that was a source of 
interest and pleasure. They never in all their 
lives had been up so late before. That the 
streets of London should be quiet and empty 
was a new idea to them; they had hitherto only 
seen them full of life and bustle. Their father 
told them of Wordsworth’s beautiful sonnet, 
in which he describes all so hushed in repose 
that “ the very houses seemed asleep.” Both 
children could understand the idea. The very 
houses seemed asleep now. They would never 
forget the impression. 

When they reached home, everything there 
was still also. The children thought how 
startled the poor little mice, that had come out 
for the night, would be at their thus coming 
home, when they had fancied them all in bed 
and asleep. 


240 


THE CHILDREN’S YEAR 


They had a pleasant little supper in the 
warm dining-room, and talked over again the 
many things they had seen. How wonderful 
and beautiful it had all been! 

The children kissed their father and mother 
with loving and grateful hearts; they thought 
of the delight of telling all to Alfred and Mary 
next morning; and then they went to bed as 
silently as little mice, that they might disturb 
nobody in the house. 

This was the pleasant ending of one year of 

Herbert and Meggy’s happy childhood. 

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